Just a Girl
by tushmonkey
Summary: Girl lives a lonely life in a small town. A freak accident happens, someone close to her dies. Now Girl has to move to the big city. Girl has to live with family she's never met—hopefully they're the right kind of people. 'You warned me about the city,' Girl thinks. 'Weird things happen there.' Oh, how right a girl can be. YuseixOC. [Formerly Dear Maria]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything really.**

* * *

The station is just about silent, despite the vibrations of the train passing by. And my suitcase wheels rolling along the solid concrete. That too.

But these are all good things. Vacant sounds and no stares—preferred.

"Where do I go?" I say to myself.

There's stairs to the left and all the way to the right so… which? I choose left. Either way, there are stairs and stairs are definitely not preferred right now.

Once they've been beaten, I shuffle as quickly as possible to the leave. But words echo against the hollow walls. The lone attendant waiting at the gate waves and smiles saying, "Have a nice night and thank you for choosing The New Domino Metro Station as your means of travel!"

"Oh. Uh…you too." I exit the station.

And I'm already shoved into a wall. Wow. I guess that's the city for you.

"Sorry," the woman mumbles, half to me half to her phone.

"No," I say to myself. "It was my fault."

I squat to pick up my scattered belongings, crawling through a jungle of legs and coats to get to some. "Sorry sorry sorry." I slink back into the crowd somehow, this time on my feet. Maybe it's better if I follow along.

"_Hustle and bustle," _she says in my head,_ "that's all it is over there."_

The wave travels to an intersection where, thankfully, it breaks off into fourths. I run to a wall.

"I know I know," I mumble. "But there's no other place."

A hand goes to my back pocket, taking out the slip of paper (for the fourth time today). The sloppy writing's been memorized for days but it's just nice to see something familiar.

I look up and breathe. No stars.

Look right, look left. No trees, no grass.

The view's nice though. Skyscrapers, billboards, cars.

Sliding down the wall, I think of Izushi.

Quiet. Small. Green. Home.

"Deep breaths, calm down," I say.

When I open my eyes, I'm surprised to see that the streets have been evacuated by all human presences. Grabbing my things and glancing at street signs, I get on my way.

No stores open, no people chatting, no kids playing. The large clock I pass only says eight. I've seen people out past two in the morning before but this… this is…

"So weird."

A quick glimpse at another street sign tells me I'm one over from where I should be, _110__th__ Drive_.

"12536 Maple Lane," I repeat. "You've got this."

I get nowhere in the ten minutes I spend searching for a maple lane to lead me—oh!

Nearly running into a pole, I try to steel myself and maybe even find composure. But what I find instead is something of a greater use. I read first from the sign, then from the slip. Anxiety moves me faster.

11973, 12248, 12453...

Only the faint glow of streetlights guides me now. Where, where, where.

I have to stop and catch my breath. They can never take much, my lungs. And it feels that, with age, they get weaker and weaker.

You can rest now, lungs. Our prize is at arms reach.

12536 Maple Lane—a modest square house at the end of the street, hidden by a few trees. It's not what's expected when in a city like this, but it's great.

What would be even greater, though, would be to meet _her_.

I want to yell at myself when my hand shakes, barely steady enough to ring the doorbell.

"Coming!" a voice says from inside.

A part of me was hoping no one would answer.

The door opens and I straighten up. Don't want my first impression to be my worst.

She's average height, with long dark hair. A round face containing deep, thoughtful eyes.

"Yes?" She's tired, I can tell.

I step back and look down.

Like a band-aid, I tell myself. Like a band-aid.

"I think that you've got the wrong—"

"No," I look up. "I don't. Are you… Martha?"

"Yes. Now look, are you selling something or—"

"You're my grandmother."

* * *

**I'll see you guys next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Who would actually let me own a series? I don't even know what I'm doing half the time.**

* * *

"I know all this sounds crazy and you probably don't believe me," I explain. "But it's true."

Silence. Then more silence. And what's that!—oh more silence.

"I'm sorry—"

It had to come at some point.

"I don't think you have the right person, honey. I've never had kids and I haven't taken care of anyone old enough to be your parents in a—" She stops.

She stares like she's remembering something.

Oh no, please don't stare. I got enough of that back home.

I avert my eyes to my fingers. They're trembling and fumbling over each other like always. It's a nervous habit but whatever helps, ya know?

"Come in." She steps behind the door, opening it wider.

Oh. Well _this _is surprising. For a good while we were just going to stand out here forever, maybe turn into statues or something?

Bringing the rolling suitcase inside, I pull the door closed behind me. Martha's already on the move down the hall. I put my things down and follow.

Picture frames crowd the hallway walls. Kids in most, doing different things. Martha's in a couple—cooking or smiling or in the background. They're wonderful, though. Every single one.

We come into the kitchen. Like everything in the house I've seen so far, the kitchen's small and a bit old. Martha sits down at one end of the table and gestures for me to sit next to her.

"What was your name again?" she asks.

"Maria, uh Takanashi."

She sighs and glances at the ceiling. "I figured so."

"So…" I'm hesitant to say anything. "You know then?"

"That you're Anastasia's daughter?" She laughs. I can tell it an unhappy one. "I wanna kick myself for not realizing it sooner."

I don't know what to say. Well I _do_,but I don't want to. Do I have to use the band-aid method again?

She takes a calm sip of her tea and sighs once more. "Something happened," she states more than asks.

With a nod, I say, "Something terrible." Then and there, she's struck with certainty and grief all at the same time.

All I can think is: _I've been there. Too. One too many times._

She doesn't cry, but she chokes up. Not seeing someone for so many years and then one day, you get the news.

It feels like a slap to the face. A cold, hard one served to you by good ol' Reality.

You can always hope and wish they're doing the best they can, but the mind thinks of what's worse long before it actually happens.

She has to clear her throat an odd number of times. And even then, her voice is still hoarse. "How are you?"

I give her the same answer I've recited thousands of times. "Good."

"Are you—"

"I've actually come to ask you something," I say quickly. She nods. "You see, for the past two months I've been staying at an inn, using money my mom left for me, but…"

She doesn't stop me or anything. I just can't finish.

I have to constantly remind myself to inhale and exhale. Sometimes when I'm too caught up with over thinking, whether it be conversation related or useless mind-boggling things, I forget to do the simplest of actions. I've gone hours without eating before and have spent days just laying in bed.

Breathing is a high contender, though.

"You don't even have to ask," she says, placing a hand over mine, "you can stay as long as you like."

"Are you sure?" I question. "I'm sure you've got many mouths to feed as is. I wouldn't want to be in the way."

She gives a firm squeeze to my hand before getting up. "I'll show you to your room." And she's off like the wind.

I go back to grab my things and come back down the hall to find her by the stairs. I repeat the same two grateful words while we walk up them step by step.

I can see it, though. The smile on her face.

"Now, you've got to understand that I've got rules here."

"Oh, of course," I say behind her.

We reach the second level and walk past a few doors, all of which have a sign saying either NO GIRLS ALLOWED or NO BOYS ALLOWED.

"Breakfast at eight. Lights out at nine, ten on weekends." I nod and give a couple mhmm's to let her know I understand. "I'm not expecting you to get used to everything right away, so don't worry if it takes a few days."

"I'll try my best though," I smile.

She smiles back and pulls a key out of her pocket. Facing a door—it was probably white once upon a time but now it's a pale yellow—she unlocks it.

It swings open gently, revealing five or six stairs. I look to her and all she does is gesture for me to go in.

They creak under my weight. Six stairs later, I'm acquainted with what looks to be an attic transformed into a room. A bed by the window, a nightstand next to it, and a bookshelf over next to the closet are the only things up here.

Martha says something as I'm looking around so I ask her to say it again: "This was your mother's room when she stayed with me."

I'm not at all shocked, however. Mom was never a fan of anything that wasn't a bare necessity. She had once told me that if you needed anything other than people you love, a comfy place to live, and food to eat, then you were living life all wrong.

It always confused me when she said stuff like that. Now I guess I understand why.

"It should be clean, if you're worried about that." It never crossed my mind, to be honest.

"Do you come up here often, then?"

"Every now and then. Just to take a look at things."

She's lying. For just a simple every now and then visit, this room's pretty clean. Or maybe her last visit was as of recent, who knows. Since pushing the matter would be incredibly rude, I continue looking around.

Martha puts a hand on my shoulder, turning me around. I'm completely off guard when she pulls me in for a hug. But I don't reject. She needs it.

We both do.

She's the first to pull away and, with a hearty sigh, says, "I'm glad you're here, Maria."

I want to say something, anything. But I'm also tired and want to be alone, so I stay silent and wait for her to finish. "Well," she hesitates, "morning comes quicker than you'd think. Get some sleep."

She walks out before I can tell her the same.

I make sure she's gone before doing anything, and then go put my shoes by the door. I lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

I'm a bit afraid to start. "So," I say, "Martha seems nice. She's letting me stay—and it's in your old bedroom!"

I turn my head to the window. A lone lamppost illuminates a spot on the sidewalk.

"I'm not going to keep you too long." I close my eyes. "I'll try and do what she says, try to get some sleep."

It's a while before I say anything else. I've rolled onto my stomach, face smashed against a pillow. With half closed eyes, I mutter, more to myself than to her, "I just really hope being here helps me be happy again, Mom."

* * *

**I love Martha. Didn't give her enough credit in the series.**

**Til next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: no.**

* * *

I'm not sure I actually fell asleep last night.

I know that I did sleep a little, but it was never steady. I'd wake up to that little lamppost lighting the vacant street one minute, then watch the sun rise the next. Whatever my sleep patterns are, I'm awake now.

I stretch my legs out from under the sheets and over the side of the bed, yawning as I do so. "I wish I hadn't slept in my clothes," I grumble, looking in the small mirror hanging on the closet door.

_Thump, thump._

I stop changing into my clothes, a blue shirt and comfy sweats, to listen to the sounds. They're gone now. "Just hearing stuff, Maria."

I grab the hairbrush from my suitcase; how can so little sleep lead to such a knotty mess?

_Thump, thump, thump._

My head whips to the direction of the door. With the least amount of noise possible, I walk next to it, hairbrush in hand, and press my ear against it.

"Can you see anything?" someone whispers.

"Not really," another says. "I only got the wall."

They must be looking through the keyhole.

"Well who do ya' think is in there?"

Three people total.

"How should I know? I just told ya' all I got is the wall!"

"We'll just have to take a peek then, won't we?" the first voice snickers.

You certainly will not.

"On three, okay? One, two—" I open the door before he can finish.

One on top of the other, they fall to the floor with a _thud_. They have to scramble off each other before gaining any semblance of balance. They're kids. Three boys, one tall and lanky, one short and pudgy, and the last is very average looking.

"Now," I smirk, "what exactly were you trying to get a peek at?"

They open their mouths to speak, but from the very bottom level of the house, Martha shouts, "Boys!"

I don't think I've ever seen anyone run so fast in my life.

Closing the door behind me, I walk down the stairs and eventually into the kitchen. There's no one around except for the three boys, who happen to be chowing down the rest of their breakfast, and Martha.

"I thought there would be more people," I say, taking a seat.

"Most of the kids are already on their way to school," Martha says as she eyes the boys suspiciously. They shrink under her gaze and eat even faster. "You'll meet the rest of the family later."

"Done!" the boys yell simultaneously, dashing out the door. "See ya' Martha!"

She waves goodbye, and hands me a plate with a bagel and apple slices on it. It takes me quite a while to finish but for just a bagel and apple, it's really good.

"Do you have any plans for today?"

"Not really," I say, "but now that I think about it, I shouldn't just be sitting around the house with nothing to do."

She's silent for the moment, only the _clanks_ of dishes against the sink make noise. "Why did you come here, Maria?" she says finally, looking the slightest bit over her shoulder.

My brow furrows. "To meet you of course."

"Other than that. You don't have any dreams, any ambitions?"

I feel a sudden wave of stupidity, so much that I can't answer her question. Of course I have dreams. Or _had _as I should now say.

Dreams don't tend to do very well in reality.

"Nothing?"

"The plan was just to get out here, firstly. And then I'd…" Her eyes egg me on. "I honestly don't know."

"Mhmm."

"Maybe a job?"

"That would be a good start," she nods.

"Well that settles it—"

"Martha!" someone yells from the door.

At this, Martha sighs. "He's almost twenty years old and still doesn't know how to knock."

In walks two boys, both around my age. The tall blonde one quickly turns to Martha, but the shorter, orange-haired one looks to me first. My eyes avert to my plate.

"So what's up Martha?" one of them says.

She studies the two boys for a minute instead of answering right away. "Where's Yusei?"

"He had to work suddenly," the blonde one grumbles.

Martha nods her head. "Well I just called you over because I wanted to ask you a favor." She moves her hands toward me and says, "Maria these two trouble makers are Crow and Jack."

I send them a wave, which only Crow responds to.

"Jack and Crow, this is Maria, my granddaughter."

For the smallest of seconds, it's silent. But then…

"YOU HAD KIDS?" I try to imagine Martha's children, but they just look like little clones running around the house telling everyone to sit up straight and finish their food.

I'm this close to answering for her but Martha signals me not to. "That's really beside the matter, boys. The reason I called you both here is because I want you to take Maria around the town and show her some of your favorite places—you know, make her feel welcomed."

"That's really not necessary—"

She cuts me off. "You said yourself that you didn't have anything planned for today."

"I don't want to babysit some girl I don't even know," Jack says rather loudly. Does he just scream and say stuff at the same time, all the time? "I have better things to do than—"

Martha's quick on her feet, grabbing his ear in a one swift movement. "I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you."

"Smooth," Crow says as he sits next to me. "He does this a lot."

"Oh." I scratch my arm from being slightly discomfited. "That's not good."

"Okay, Martha. Okay!" Jack then rubs his ear and mumbles, "We'll take her wherever she wants."

* * *

"So where exactly do you want us to take you?" Crow asks. He presses a button on a stoplight and we wait to cross the street.

We had already been to this local sushi place that Crow recommended; he kept saying something about getting a bang for your buck. After, we went to the card shop but as soon as we went in, we left. I don't think Jack likes being around too many people. The closest thing that we're next to is the carnival now.

"I didn't really have anything in mind." Jack grunts from behind us. I whisper, "Is he always like this?"

"Give or take a few emotions, pretty much."

"I can hear you," Jack says under is breath.

"Good, I wanted you to," Crow throws over his shoulder.

"I think," I say before they get into it again, "I just want to walk around a bit, you know get used to things and scenery. Home was nothing like this."

"I hear you. The Satellite and New Domino were complete opposites for a good while there."

"The Satellite?" I say. "That's an odd name for a town."

Both Jack and Crow stop in their tracks. "You've never heard of the Satellite?" says Jack.

"No, not that I recall." But I feel like saying this isn't enough. "I'm sorry if I said something to offend you."

"No it's just that—"

"Oh Jackie!"

"Ugh, not now, Carly," Jack grumbles. Is he great at that or what?

A girl with chunky glasses and a traffic cone orange vest hops over to Jack. "Oh come on Jack," she says, "you don't even know what I'm about to ask." He gives her something close to a glare and she sighs. "So it has to do with my next big scoop, you guessed right."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm busy, Carly!"

It seems as if she looks straight through Crow, who's standing in front of me, and directly at me. I don't know what to make of the look she gives me. But it's not a good one, I know that. It makes me feel like I've stolen one too many cookies from the cookie jar or something.

"Who are you?" she demands.

Before I can even answer, Jack says, "We're busy!"

"Who is she?" Carly directs the question at Jack like I'm not even here.

"I'm Maria." Her eyes don't look anywhere but Jack's.

"Carly!"

"Okay, I'm leaving!" Jeez, do they shout a lot. "I'll just see you later then, I guess."

She skulks away and I can't help but notice her smile change into the faintest frown. So I say to Jack, "Maybe you should be nicer to her."

What a great choice that is. If looks could kill, if looks could kill.

"Why do you care?"

I can't meet him in the eye so I shrug, not quite sure what to say. "I don't all that much. But they say you can never have too many friends." I look down slightly. "Not to mention girls are really sensitive about that stuff."

"What do you know!"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure," my eyes roll, "but I think I just might be a girl."

He freezes like a block of ice and glares. And then growls, which just makes Crow insane with laughter. Abruptly, Jack turns and stomps away, making earthquakes with every step. This leaves a howling Crow and a bewildered me in the street.

—

When we finally catch up to Jack, he's at this place called Café la Green. He sits alone at an outside table, sipping on what I would guess to be coffee.

Crow inhales deeply and paces up to him. "I thought I told you we're on a tight budget this month! You can't waste money on one cup of coffee when we have perfectly fine instant coffee at home. And I know that we do because I was the one who bought some just yesterday!"

"Like I would drink that sad excuse for coffee. Only the best is good enough for me," Jack scoffs.

"Then you should at least get a job if you're going to throw money around like it's nothing," Crow sighs. "We could be using that for rent or food."

It sounds like they've got some really big problems. Like really gigantic "money could solve most of our problems" problems.

I think we had those too.

Mom would have never admitted it—never did in fact—but I sort of knew. I used to get sick a lot because of my asthma, and everyone knows hospitals are a fortune. I would be at the hospital most of the time and she'd always come visit me.

But she would always look so tired.

There would always be bags under her eyes and she would talk a bit slower, whispering and mumbling to herself from time to time. I wasn't older than eight, I believe, so I didn't say anything. Yet I was old enough to know that everything was taking its toll.

I think that was around the time I started straying away from people.

I didn't want to be a toll on anyone's wellbeing.

I didn't want to be the black cloud hanging over their head.

"Hey," someone says from behind us. "What's going on?"

I don't really pay much attention after this. I know that Crow, Jack, and this other man talk for a little bit, but I'm not sure what about. I'm over thinking again.

"Not now," I say to myself.

"—ia? Maria?"

I blink a few times, surprised. "Yes?"

"Hey, you okay?" Crow asks.

"I'm just," I speak slowly, "so tired from traveling. You know, I didn't get much sleep last night… so I think I'm just going to go home."

"Yeah, it's getting late anyway," says Crow. Looking up, I can already spot the rosy reds and oranges of the sunset. "We'll take you."

"No!" I run a hand through my hair, maybe that'll seem nonchalant? "I'm sure I can manage by myself. And I even remember the way, so it's fine."

"You sure?" the raven-haired man says. Why didn't I listen for his name?

"Very, and thank you. It was nice spending time with you all."

I start to walk away before they can offer again. After some time, I look back at them and they're still standing around the table talking. They look so nice and so friendly. It feels like I'm missing out on something good, like a slice of cake or being able to smile.

And this is why I wish I wasn't who I am now.

I might not be a hovering cloud or a ticket on someone's car, but being a purse of the lips or a burnt cupcake sucks too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: no me gusta.**

* * *

Black. That's all I see.

"Mom?" I call. "Where'd you go?" She was right next to me a minute ago. We were in the kitchen, making lunch and singing to the radio. "Mom?"

I start walking; with no idea where to go or what to do, it's my best bet. The farther I get, though, the colder it becomes. "Everything's fine," I assure myself. "Everything's fine."

Just after having said that, the black pit shakes. Everything looks liquid-y, dark and wobbling as it thrums to the beating.

I close my eyes and press my hands against them. "Nothing's happening." When my arms fall back to my sides and my eyes squint open, the movement has stopped.

"Are you scared?"

I look around. "What? Where are you?"

It says, "Over here," but it just sounds like empty air. The voice then laughs when I spin around a few more times.

"Where are you?"

"You don't like games?" It kind of sounds like a child.

"Not when you're playing with my mind."

"We only wish to play," it whines, echoing beyond me. "Don't you want to play with us?"

"I want to go back. Could you do that?" I say. "Could you take me back to my mother?" No one's here, and yet I feel surrounded. Surrounded by the voice and the dark, suffocated by the vulnerability they bring.

"Don't you know, Maria," it cackles, "that that disgrace of a mother you have is _dead_."

Hands race out of the floor, latching onto my ankles. My mind tells me to run, but I remain still. And as they crawl up my body, I don't even scream.

What am I supposed to do?

Wait, what's that? A flicker of light sparkles far away. No, not a flicker. A tidal wave…

—

I hurriedly sit upright. "Of course it was a dream." I cover my eyes again and flop back onto my pillow.

Looking out the window, I see fog encased trees and streets. The clock on the wall reads a quarter to nine. I know exactly what'll take this dream off my mind.

I pull off the sheets and lumber out of bed, putting my feet into my shoes. Just in case, I grab an extra blanket from the hallway closet and wrap it around me. Martha's door is wide open and unoccupied when I pass it on my way to the kitchen; she's probably out grocery shopping. So I write her a note:

_**I went out for a walk. Will be back soon—Maria**_

As I step into the front yard, a strong gust blows past me. It fills my nostrils with the scent of pine and wood—the odor of a forest. The smell leads, authorizing me this way and that, as I follow.

I don't pay much attention to my course, but when I realize it's been a while, trees and leaves surround me. I circle around a bit. "This doesn't look like New Domino."

In fact, it resembles Izushi more than anything; there's so much nature that looks that it can go on forever. I can't even tell which direction I came from.

"Wait a second," I gasp, stomping my foot on the ground. "I know what this is! This is one of those dreams where you wake up from a dream and you're in another dream."

_Mrrow_.

I turn around. "Oh, you're cute." I look back and forth before I bend down to the cat and run my hands down its black fur. "You've got no collar; are you a stray?"

I've never had a pet before. Well, not one that does something other than swimming in a bowl. Mom was allergic to all these different kinds of furs, so I could never get anything other than a fish. And I had about eleven of those.

Hesitantly, I pick him?—nope he's a she—I pick her up and wrap her in the blanket I brought along. Her tiny head pops out, revealing her bright yellow eyes.

_Crunch_.

"Oh, okay," I say mockingly. "You're not going to scare me, forest. You hear me!" Birds in the tops of trees scatter into the sky. "I'm not scared! I'm not—"

Maybe two yards ahead of us, stands a figure. Tall and thin, still as stone. But it takes a step forward as I take a step back. This is when I run. Because I am afraid.

What a shocker.

My hair swishes behind me as I tread on. Heart racing at an unusual speed, I slow. I try not to stop completely, but I can feel an asthma attack swirling in my lungs, ready to shoot up at any moment. The trees and bushes lessen. The fog lets up.

Yet I keep running. And I hit something.

I tumble down, taking whatever it is with me, and close my eyes. Hands gripping onto fabric, we take a severe crash onto the dewy morning grass.

I'm so tired that it takes me a few minutes to process what I landed on—or better yet, who. The first thing I see are his blue eyes, glistening in contrast to his tanned skin.

"Are you alright?" he asks. I nod. "Do you think you could—"

"I'm sorry!" I climb off of him. We both stand after a while. "I didn't know it was you."

"It's fine," he says. "You're sure you're okay, though?" There's not much emotion in his voice, so it's difficult to tell if he's truly sincere.

"Yes, I'm definitely alright." The more I look at him, the more handsome he gets. When he looks back at me, I can just see the disbelief swirling around in his mind. So I—very believingly—say, "I was just on a walk."

He nods, and I don't think he knows what to say. Which is a good thing.

I think?

"We should probably get inside," he states after some time, looking toward the sky. "Looks like rain."

We walk onto the porch and I try to open the door, but it's locked. As I turn back to him, he's already searching under a potted plant. When he stands back up, he holds a key. "How did you know…?"

He gives the tiniest smirk and, oh, is it wonderful; I can feel heat rising in my cheeks. "When you live here for most of your life you learn a thing or two."

He opens the door for me and closes it behind him. "You've… you've lived here before? With Martha?"

"Crow didn't mention that?" I shake my head no. "Crow, Jack, and I used to all live here in the orphanage."

That makes me sad in some way. Maybe because I know how it feels now, I'm not sure. I would say something like, "I'm sorry," but I know all too well how that feels.

I don't think he really notices my fretting, though, because he's already into the kitchen. Feeling something brush past my leg causes me to look down.

"How did you get in here?" I ponder. The sly feline simply roams over to the couch in the living room and I don't know whether or not I should leave her, but I eventually do.

Passing the mirror in the hallway makes me give a double take. My dark brown hair sits across my shoulders instead of in the bun I fastened it in earlier. I make a small list of things I need to check before I go into the kitchen. Hair—messy. Eyes—watery. Face in general—puffy.

However, the overwhelming sense of stupidity catches me off guard. Here I am trying to flatten my curly mess of hair and rubbing fingers against my eyelids.

I'm not doing this for me, I tell myself. A messy bun and a loose tank top are my go-to accessories on a normal day and here I am dolling myself up for a guy I don't even know the name of.

Girls must do this for him all the time.

Before I even step into the kitchen, a wave of kids crashes into me. "Yusei's here, Yusei's here!" He places his toolbox on the table and squats down to their eye level. I stand by the doorway, watching them climb on him and show him their toys.

I leave to my room after a while, though. The effects of running through that forest are catching up with me. The cat moves with delicate steps across my bed when I open my door. She sits at a corner.

"How did you get up here?" Stare. "You're a mysterious little thing, you know?"

I lay next to her and stare back. "You're lucky you're cute. I don't know if Martha will let me keep you, but you can stay up here until I ask her, okay?" She nuzzles against my arm, tickling me slightly. "Now what should I call you?"

She meows. "I can't just name you Meow." I cross my legs and push my back against the wall. "I got it," I shriek gleefully, "You'll be named after Mom—Annie."

For a cat, the name seems to fit perfectly. Sort of.

We bask in silence. My mind is at rest for once, thankfully, and I stare at her as she roams around my room searching for whatever, jumping on whatever. Then I don't really pay her much attention at all, seeing as I'm too tired to. Instead I flop onto my pillow, turning my head away from her and towards the window.

But something registers in my mind right before I fall asleep.

I sit up abruptly, open my window and look down.

"Where is it?" I say. "It should be _right here_."

Nothing but stumps and shrubs lay where I walked some minutes ago. No fog, no trees.

The forest is gone.

* * *

**This chapter has recently been updated. Thanks a bunch for reading and it'd mean a lot if you'd leave a review!**

**Till next chapter lovelies!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I really love that there's so many different places that can view your fanfic. You never think of people outside your country looking at it.**

* * *

"And the big bad wolf huffed and he puffed and he—"

"Blew the house down!" the girls shout.

I smile and continue reading. "No. Unlike his brothers, the third pig built his house out of bricks."

"So does he live?"

"See, the big bad wolf was so incredibly determined. He tried many times to huff and puff and blow the third pig's house down but he couldn't. Finally, when the wolf was all tuckered out, he just let the pigs go and they lived happily ever after."

They cheer and jump off the bed, running around the room with a burst of enthusiasm. I watch them, still smiling. I'm envious; to be able to have such energy all the time must be something.

"Knock knock," says Martha from the door. "It's about time you girls go to bed, don't you think?"

They sigh in unison. "Do we really have to?" I get the feeling they're asking me too so I nod my head. They sigh one final time before getting into their beds, Martha tucking them in one at a time.

"Goodnight girls," I say to them.

"Goodnight Maria," they sing. It's adorable how they all manage to speak in sync. "Can you read us another one tomorrow?"

My smile grows. "Sure, but worry about getting some sleep, okay?"

We go to the door and walk downstairs.

"They really seem to be warming up to you," Martha says. "And it's not just them, all the kids like you."

"You think so?" I say excitedly. Maybe it's a little sad to be so eager over things like this, but I am. If there's anything I was worried about before coming here, it was the people, especially ones close to Martha.

We sit down in the living room where there's a smaller table to sit four comfortably. I like it in here a lot more than in the kitchen. There's a television and a really large bookcase; things that always keep me busy. Most of all, though, there's a window seat that looks out into the front yard.

"Of course. They see you as an older sister, as a role model now." She then goes into the kitchen to get something, causing me to follow her in.

"But I don't really do anything," I say as she hands me a mug.

Martha's an avid tea drinker. In the cupboards overhead there's a wide variety of teas and they're all organized by when Martha likes to drink them—morning, afternoon, just after dinner, and as a late night beverage.

"And?" she says, raising a brow slightly.

Her scrutiny makes me shy so I sit at the table, hands over my eyes. "I mean, what is there to look up to? I sit around here and… I-I just… The point is that I don't do anything!"

I don't think she knows how much this has been on my mind. Before I finished school, I had decided that I was going to try and apply for scholarships because I knew we never had the money for college. I mean, I never had anything concrete planned, but I had graduated early for a reason.

Now it's different. And I'm more confused than ever.

"But you're a good person." She turns the notch on the stove to high. "More than anything you're humble and kind. You might not have plans now but you will."

She sits next to me and pulls my hands from my face. "But Martha…"

"Nothing—no job, no amount of money, no goal—is more important than being a good person. You will gain so much," she says, shaking my hands lightly, "from this alone. Just be patient."

She has so much hope in her eyes—hope for me.

It's terrifying.

I don't want to let her down, it could happen so easily. It's like she's unintentionally setting me up for failure. I don't know if I'd be able to handle that.

With so many thoughts soaring through my brain, I let go of her hands and place them on the table. I know she's still looking at me, but my stare is only on my lap. "The kettle's whistling," I whisper.

She gets up quickly, saying, "I guess it is."

She pours some in my cup first, then hers. Honestly, I didn't feel like drinking anything at the moment. I'm just too polite to object.

We don't talk about anything, either. If you were nearby, the clinking of cups on the oak wood table and slurps of our tea would be all you'd hear. I finish mine before her, say goodnight, and go upstairs. Right away, I shut the door and go to the closet.

I go through my bags, not sure which one _it _is in. T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, a few skirts, some hair clips. Where is _it_?

Clothes clutter the floor, some even on my bed. In all my frustration and uncertainty, I end up laying with them, tired of searching. Annie runs through them like they're a field of yarn, sniffing some things and toying with others.

Paper crinkling calls my name. "What are you doing, Annie?" I ask in a rhetorical sense. It's nice just saying things without waiting for a reaction, I guess.

She stops playing with the paper, leaving it an inch or two from my fingers. I glance at it, knowing it's exactly what I was looking for. Raising my arms above me, I stare at the clipping through half-closed eyes.

"Look Annie," I call to her, "that's who you're named after." I wave the picture back and forth. "They picked a really nice one; it's one of my favorites."

Sometime later, I fall asleep on my mound of possessions, dreaming about the newspaper piece.

_Headlining News: Local Florist Dies in a Horrific House Fire_

* * *

When morning comes, I decide to go to the library. No particular reason, I'm just bored. But I don't want to be around the house, too. Martha makes me sit down and eat breakfast even though I'm not hungry. After a strain-filled ten minutes of playing with my food, she lets me go.

Thankfully, the library's only a few blocks away. I tried leaving without Annie, but, after one block of walking, I noticed she was tagging along behind me. So very gingerly, I place her in the bag I have with me. "You've got to learn to listen," I scold.

We reach the library and walk up the thousand steps that lead to the door. "Don't make any noise now," I whisper.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" the old librarian asks. It takes me a good while before I realize she's speaking to me.

"Oh! I'm not looking for anything specific," I say, "just looking."

She smiles politely and goes back to her work. I leave her desk and wander among the aisles, not quite sure where to go. I find a table and just sit; it's next to a window.

From here I watch people go by. It's strange how there's so many people you don't know who have their own lives and friends and problems. You can pass them on the street and not think twice about how they're doing or where they're going. You never wonder if they're dying from some incurable disease or if they're having the best day of their lives.

And you certainly do think about how lonely they might be.

I sit in a daze for what must be forever. There's a _crash _possibly a few aisles away. And before I can even get up, Annie rushes out of my bag. "Annie," I whisper harshly, "come back!"

She stops a bit ahead of me and I snatch her up. But there's a girl.

She's on the floor, picking up papers and binders. She stops, however, and takes a few glances at her surroundings. My limited amount of instincts command me to hide behind a nearby bookcase.

"That was strange," she mumbles. "I could have sworn I saw… a cat."

"Annie!" I smack my forehead afterward.

"Hello?" the burgundy-haired girl calls. "I can hear you."

Gradually, I unveil myself. And Annie. "I'm sorry."

"So I did see a cat." I nod as she resumes picking up her papers. "At least I know I'm not crazy."

I set Annie down and bend over to help her. I start rambling, hoping to find an explanation somewhere in between. "I didn't mean to bring her, she just tagged along. I'm sorry that she scared you and that you dropped your things and—"

Some of her papers have tiny wet splotches on them. I look at her face. Her eyes are golden pools, slightly pink and watery.

Her head abruptly goes down. "Where did the time go?" she laughs. It's fake and forced, though.

I try to tell myself it's no business of mine, but I can't help saying something. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

I don't pester her to talk to me, but neither of us moves from our spots on the floor. I wait for her to tell me to leave and she never does.

"My name's Akiza," she murmurs.

I started reading a book I've read before in the time we weren't talking and put it down. "That's really pretty," I comment. "Oh, and I'm Maria. It's nice to meet you."

And, again, it's quiet. A good quiet, like the silence itself is whispering words in our ears.

I just really hope she's okay. And that maybe we'll be friends. Yes, that would be nice.

"I'm getting kind of hungry," I hear her say. She puts some things in her schoolbag and stands. Her back is turned to me, but I still wave. The _clack _of shoes against the tile floor stops after several steps, causing me to look back up from my book. "You're coming, aren't you?" she says.

My mouth swings open. "I'm…invited?" She nods. "Oh. Oh! I should probably get off the floor then!" I laugh.

This whole time I thought I was bothering her.

"And you should probably hide your cat too."

I give a shy smile as I put Annie back in my tote. "So where do you want to go?"

"There's this really good smoothie place across the street that we can go to, if you want."

And that's where we go. We don't sit for too long and don't talk about too much because Akiza says she has to go study for a test. But we exchange phone numbers and make plans to meet up when she's free.

I'm really happy, Mom. So incredibly happy right now.

And that's what I said I wanted, to be happy.

"_But not everything you want…_

So why doesn't happiness feel like the slap of joy I thought it'd be?

…_is what you need."_

* * *

**This chapter has recently been updated. I want to thank everyone for reading and it would mean a lot if you left something in the review box.**

**Till next time lovelies!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except a certain little cutie named Maria.**

* * *

I never know what to do when everyone leaves.

When the children are at school and if Martha's out shopping, the house is in some ephemeral silence. You can hear boards creak and the refrigerator hum and the swish of the curtains against the window sill.

It's so empty. And a bit creepy.

It does nothing good for me. I know it's day time and all but I watch scary movies. Teenage girls in old, empty houses never live long.

"What should we do, Annie?" I pick her up and hold her above my head. "Maybe a walk?"

I meander around the house to get up to my room and grab my shoes, but a something in the back of my mind stops me. Looking at my feet and then around the room, I say, "Annie?"

Nothing. Nothing, and yet, it feels like someone else is here. A non-existent presence. I just shake it off my shoulders, pick up my flip-flops, and go back downstairs.

* * *

It wouldn't be so bad—being out and about. If there weren't other people out here doing other things that don't concern me, I wouldn't mind it at all.

Congregating like bees on a honey-paved road, people swarm me with their talk of whimsical jokes, social festivities, and any other babbling of the hour. I don't know how much more of it I can take.

However, being on the streets is a rather good thing. Heaven knows I would never be out here on my own accord.

"_There's a bulletin board up over in the square," Martha said as she chopped some carrots._

I try not to be so frantic as I stand and push the streetlight button. Eight times in three seconds. Annie rubs her head against my leg in an attempt to sooth me. But the walking man appears on the screen above and I take myself across.

I don't know why I'm in such a hurry.

_They plop into the soup pot and she continues on. "Posters from local businesses are put up there pretty regularly, so I was thinking…"_

There's too much on my mind. Too many people around. Too much light, too many sounds. Think of basics, I say to myself. Walk—right, then left, then right again. Breathe; do it over and over. If people look at you, smile. No no, not like that!

"I'm sorry," I say as I bump into another person. "Sorry."

On the first chance I get, I cower away from everything. There's a park on my left. In more of a rush than I ever was, I find an open spot in the grass and lay face down. The dew wets my face and I bask in the cold serenity it provides. I know it's Annie who trots up beside me so I don't care to look.

"Why," I ask myself. Am I nervous for the bulletin board? The possibilities?

"What are you doing?" A sudden weight brings my attention to a certain fluff-ball swinging her tail back and forth as she lolls about on my head. "This is not cheering me up, I hope you know."

Meow.

Nonetheless, I let her stay. Her heat provides somewhat of a balance against the dew. As I raise a hand to pet her, a random projectile falls against it. Now I make her get off.

"Lady!" A line of kids stand before me, waiting and staring. "Do you think you can pick that up?"

Leaning against my arm is a duel monster card."Yes?" Stupid question. "Is this yours?"

"Obviously," a black-haired boy says, receiving a jab from a friend. With a roll of his eyes, he grunts, "Yeah, it is."

I frown at his rudeness, but then feel like laughing. Knowing myself, I'd never be able to throw the card like I've seen duelists do on the TV.

I walk it over to them. "Thanks, lady." The huddle walks away but not before saying, "And if you don't mind, it would be a good idea to get off our field."

_Whatever_, I think.

I rest on a bench close enough to watch what happens next.

The kids, two standing and the rest seated, shout in the distance. When I spot things moving in my peripheral vision, my eyes dart to those walking over. Two children, a boy and girl with heads bright green hair, chat up the other kids. Before they sit down, more people come along and I realize it.

I know them. The deep red of a school jacket and the spikes of an orange up-do and the deep disinterested voice of one man and the quiet presentness of another. But I don't rush to wave at them or call them or even get closer. I don't know if I want to be noticed.

However, Annie and her flagrant need for attention, see differently and interrupt my spying. She trots over, nuzzling against the first leg she meets. Akiza turns and, albeit a little stunned, picks her up. She smiles and says a few things, making everyone else face her.

Which then turns into everyone looking at me.

You couldn't just respect my wishes could you, Annie? I made up my mind to stay hidden and out of the way and you couldn't respect it?

What's a girl got to do to get away around here?

Akiza strolls on over and I don't know what to do. How do you get out of a situation like this? Seeing everyone staring at me in the background makes thinking even harder. Looking past Akiza brings me to the eyes of the small green-haired girl and, automatically, it feels like a shock runs through my brain.

Things get hazy. I know I'm standing but I feel like falling.

—

I wake up thinking that I'm still in the park. But the sky was never _this _blue and the grass was never _this _green, so where of all places can I possibly be?

"Dreaming, of course," I groan, sitting upright..

It's a lot like the dream I had before where Mom disappeared and there was nothing. It's a lot more pleasant but there's still more nothing. So I get up and walk.

That's the goal of dreaming, right? To have something happen by the time you wake up?

And just like that, I'm at a gate. Big and bulky, creaky and rusted. It's not locked, oddly enough, and all it takes to open it is a little extra weight. It swings open and now a village stands before me; brick-built houses sitting aside cobblestone roads.

I hate how quickly dreams transition. They're too much like life.

A shop with a CLOSED sign on the door is next the next thing I pass. A bakery, huh? A bakery with no bakers or customers. No lights on. But bread is out and that's good, right?

Strange, yet (possibly?) good.

Past the bakery and some other buildings, I find a fountain. I sit along the edge and splash water onto my face. Hair's in dire need of a brushing, not to mention how red my cheeks are. So I slink onto the ground and push my hands into my face; maybe this will wake me up.

Meow.

"Annie!"

But there's no one. I sit some more and push my eyes some more and hope that whatever this dream is supposed to bring will just pass already.

Meow.

"Nope," my head shakes. "Not looking this time." But just like in the park, a weight rests upon my head. I reach up, and pull whatever it may be down into my line of vision.

This, despite its incredible resemblance to something she might cough up, is definitely not Annie. Well, a hairball with legs. Its big eyes residing on most of its face look very pleased to see me and it makes another noise.

"Oh, so you're the meowing sound I heard. Where did you come from?"

Right on cue it floats up above, lingering in my presence for just a second before floating off down the street. I hop up and chase after it.

Three intersections and a block later brings us to a bridge. The flying fluff-ball crosses over, and waits at the end for me to catch up. Then it flies on, this pace slower than the last.

More grass erupts from the space after the bride and we trek on for a little longer. I follow blindly until the rough fur of the creature hits my face. "What's wrong?" I ask, looking around it.

Blurred figures apparently.

He hovers to them in an instant and they greet him wholeheartedly. But the thing is—I can't hear a word of it. No laughing or noises; the only reason I know they're communicating is by the smiles on their faces and the wrinkles produced from their closed eyes.

As we stand there, they begin to notice me and make an end to their noiseless chatter. Wait, I've seen these creatures before. The kids back at Martha's use these monsters all the time when they duel!

I'm realizing way too much, of course, and don't even see what's right in front of me. My feet stagger back, but it also gives me a better view of this serpent-like being that has parted the crowd.

And I see, from inches too close to the ground, that this creature is rather beautiful. Not fearsome nor alarming, regal more than anything. It leans closer toward me, and places a claw against my head. I'm afraid of course, but I can't take myself away.

The hope that it will speak to me fades, as does everything else. In shimmers, the creatures and grass and sky float from my eyes like light bugs fly in the springtime. I'm just left feeling warm and unaware and tingly and relieved.

But I'm waking up and I can only imagine to what.

* * *

**Another update, surprise surprise. This one was in dire need :( Thanks to all who have read and as always I'd really love it if you would take the time to put a little somethin' somethin' *nudge nudge wink wink* in the review box.**

**Till next time lovelies!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I just own Maria and the plot, guys.**

* * *

I've been awake for days it seems. Not conscious enough to move nor tired enough to fall asleep, my eyes roam in hopes of discovering a focus point.

I'm definitely in Martha's house, I know that. This is not my room, however.

The walls are white, or as close to white as it can be after maybe ten or twenty years of being around while mine are a faint pink. The shape of the room is smaller, not to mention how lumpy and rigid this bed is.

I roll my head over and I'm so glad to see my good ol' fluff ball back at my side. "Annie," I whisper as I poke her side. Black ears dart up and she jumps on me in a flash.

"You've been here the whole time, I bet." She licks my fingers and purrs. "Aren't you sweet."

Feeling slightly revived, I peel myself from the (also white) bed sheets and stand on the wood floors. My feet are unsteady, so I only get as far as the window across from the bed. The air breezes by and invigorates me with a thousand scents.

"I know the smell of flowers anywhere," I smile. Below the window is Martha's little garden sprouting with red tulip buds.

But my smile fades once the memories come in flashes.

"_Oh, you look so pretty with flowers in your hair, especially the daisies."_

"_Could you go pick up the order of orchids in the back, honey?"_

"Maybe pulling out all my hair will distract me enough to not think about her," I say to Annie as we move away from the sill.

We take ourselves to and through the door. As I pad down the hall, two familiar voices emerge from the kitchen. Slower and lighter, we walk and stand at the edge of a wall that connects the hallway and kitchen.

"So what did you need to talk to me about?" Martha says. She pours something in a cup (tea most likely) and pull out a chair.

"Well." _Is that Akiza? _"I wanted to talk about Maria for just a second."

Martha chuckles. "If you're worried, there's really nothing to be worried about. Schmidt said she had a very minor hyperventilation attack. Too much oxygen in her lungs and it went to her head is all."

Annie's this close to going into the kitchen and I swap her up in my arms as I think, _Too much oxygen and I hyperventilate. Not enough and I have an asthma attack. Aren't I troublesome?_

"That's good, very good to hear," agrees Akiza. "But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"I'm not exactly sure how to begin, sorry." Martha says to take her time and she keeps on. "When Maria passed out a couple of days ago"—_a couple of days!—_"I… might have seen something."

"Like what?" Martha and I say in unison.

I sharply inhale and stand erect. There's a pregnant pause, but Akiza continues as I sigh in relief.

"Mmm, well maybe it wasn't anything at all. I was really shocked and in panic so who knows? But when I got over to her right after she fainted, I saw a marking on the center of her forehead."

In an involuntarily motion, I swipe a hand across my forehead. "A mark?" I whisper.

"Do you think it was… a Signer mark?"

"No," Akiza says unsurely, "it was something else completely. It was a gold color and maybe half of a circle and something else. I can't really remember."

"Hmm, did anyone else see it?"

Martha doesn't sound any different than when the conversation started, I notice. No raise in pitch or slowed speech. But Martha's always calm under circumstance? I'm sure it's nothing.

"No, I was the first one to her and it went away a second or two after."

"Good. Don't say anything to anyone," speaks Martha. "Not even Maria, you hear?"

And in the moment that I hear Akiza agree on her silence, Annie takes a leap toward the floor into the kitchen. I don't know what to do then and rush through idea after idea in my head.

I know what I'll do! Tiptoeing back a couple feet, I act like I'm about to walk into the kitchen. Just in time, too.

"Maria!" shouts Martha as she peeks out of the doorway. "What are you doing up?"

"I thought I was feeling good enough to walk around a bit," I say, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. I then point to my hand on the wall as I chuckle and say, "But maybe I was wrong."

Martha gives a airy sigh before taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair for me and goes over to the cupboard to pull out a cup.

I'd pass out more often if I knew it would make me a good liar all of a sudden.

"Are you feeling better?" Akiza asks.

I try to smile but it doesn't feel right. "Much. Just really tired and a little hungry."

Martha turns on the oven without a word and I stop myself from opposing her.

We make an attempt at small talk and, just like smiling, it doesn't come about naturally. A good ten minutes later, Martha chimes in saying, "Don't you need to get going for school, Aki?"

"Shoot!" Akiza stands from her chair and gives a small bow. "Is it okay if I come back to see you later today?"

She catches me off guard with her question and I have to answer her with a mouth full of blueberry pancakes. "Uh… Sure."

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Martha scolds as Akiza leaves.

"I'm sorry!"

* * *

"Do I have to?" I whine.

"Yes, you do. It's the only way we can keep an eye on you," Martha says. I glance at the distance between the couch and the kitchen; if something were to happen, Martha would be able to get to me in approximately three seconds.

I lean into the couch and try to get comfortable. It's lumpy, but I've gone to sleep on worse. I sit up and say, "Wait, who's we?" but Martha's gone.

I don't dwell on it for too long and by the time I turn around, three small girls stand in front of me. I swallow a gasp deep within my lungs and scoot into the cushions more.

"We didn't mean to scare you," the oldest one says, Aya. If it wasn't for the handful of nights I've read bedtime stories to them, I wouldn't recognize them.

"Yeah," chirps Maya as her large shirt swishes back and forth on her torso. LET'S REV IT UP! it reads. _Sounds familiar._ "We just thought you could use some blankets and stuff."

"Oh, you didn't have to," I coo, grabbing the blankets and pillow stuffed between their arms. "I could have managed."

"Well, Martha told us to," says Maya. She receives a quick nudge in her side from Aya before talking again. "But we were real worried about you anyway."

I notice Kaya, the smallest of the trio, nod her head vigorously with thumb in mouth. Ruffling their three little heads I say, "Thank you. It means a lot."

Giggles fill the air when they hop away. I place the sheets on the bed and lay down soon after. I'm alone now. Where Annie is, I don't know. Albeit nothing troublesome, I worry she won't come back.

I make do with the worries, nonetheless, and prepare for a nap.

—

Fire.

One strong enough to drag you down

and burn your soul…

—

I can tell time has passed, the sunlight's too bright. Liquid catches my attention when I bring both hands to my face. I ignore it; crying is nothing new. But the little paw repeatedly pressing against my nose is a change.

"Annie," I whisper, "what are you doing you silly cat?"

I yawn and stretch before heaving myself up from the couch. The gentle touch of her sliding into my lap tickles my stomach. Just to mess with her, I pick her up and raise her into the air. Her response goes as expected and I laugh.

"Glad to see you're up," says someone from the other side of the room—Crow. I place Annie back in my lap and turn my head.

Sitting at the table is Crow, Jack, Yusei, and Kaito. I'm speechless, yet able enough to utter a small hello, I sink back into the covers soon after.

"Maria?" It's Yusei this time.

I ignore him and bury myself in the sheets, curling myself into a ball as I go.

_Why do you hate me cruel, cruel world?_

"Pssh, don't even waste your time on her," Kaito butts in. He takes no approach in hiding his snarky remark from me. Quite the opposite actually.

A stringy silence lingers on the ceiling, and to my dismay, is quickly pushed aside.

"Why do you say that?" There's something to Yusei's voice. Not nearly as malicious as Kaito but masks some emotion I'm not quick enough to pick up on.

"She talks to her cat all the time," Kaito scoffs. "If that's not weird then I don't know what is."

"That's not weird," Crow cuts in. "Lots of people do that."

"Yeah," Kaito starts, "but she obviously thinks it's her mom. You know, like the cat's a reincarnation or something."

I've never had a problem with him until now. Even when him and his brothers tried to sneak a peek at me, I didn't care. Kids, I know from experience, don't know when they're getting close to that line and I can tolerate that.

But you don't do _that_. And I know Kaito's full aware of what he's saying. So that fire, the one that drowned me in my dreams? It swells in my heart and flares in my throat.

I walk to the table, a slight frown on my face and tension in every bone. "I don't really know what you're trying to do," I say. He turns, but doesn't look at me head on. "I don't know if you're trying to make me dislike you or lose any respect that I might've had for you."

"Well I was just—"

"And I don't expect an apology, nor do I really want one. You said what you said and you can't take it back." The stares of the other guys shake me and break me. "Although, if anything, you should understand my situation rather than cut me down for it."

I grab Annie, walk to the doorway, and take in another gulp of air before I leave. "Maybe," I say hurriedly, "I should forgive you for what you said. But you wouldn't want me to _waste your time _on that, now would you?"

I'm so thankful for the short distance up the stairs to my room. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to run as fast I do.

Slam the door. Put Annie down. Fall into the sheeted mound on my bed—all have been checked off today's to-do list.

Out the window I stare, pondering on this day. It's been too much for my unsteady mind, and now I'm exhausted. So naturally, I groan loudly when someone comes knocking on my door.

Despite this, I turn my head to the door and say, "It's open." _It's Kaito coming to apologize, no doubt._

However, the glimpse of those yellow streaked spikes prove me wrong. I gasp and whip my head back around, heartbeat fluttering.

"Hey," he says.

I'm so jittery and nervous and shy and slightly panicking. "H-hi."

His gaze pierces my back and I mentally beg him to stop. But I'd be lying to say I don't like him being around. In an indecisive battle of emotions, my mouth quivers, "You can sit if you like."

I guess he was leaning on the wall because he takes me up on my offer, making the bed heave under added weight.

"How are you?"

I leave him answerless. There's none to give and I'm positive he can guess one better than any I could ever think of.

A sudden hiss and a sharp inhale later, I'm sitting up and looking over his shoulder. Annie leaps from his lap and onto the floor, waggling her tail back and forth. Yusei, who's clutching his right index finger, looks at me without much of anything in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"She bit me."

"Annie?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." I'm so entranced by his pools of blue that it takes time to fully comprehend in my head. "Oh!"

My smooth transition to the floor is far too sloppy and I have to chuckle, which comes out just as awkwardly, to hide my embarrassment. I curse my luck and disorganization as I search for a first aid kit in my drawer.

I ignore his eyes as I make way back to the bed. I hand him the box and scoot into a corner. He opens it and instantly begins slapping a band-aid on his finger. I try to mute my disapproving grunt but he obviously hears me.

"Something wrong?"

"You're not cleaning it?" I sigh, scooting closer. "It could get infected."

"Oh."

"Let me see."

A skimpy line of blood runs from the tip of his finger. Taking a wet nap from the kit, I wipe the blood and dry his finger with a cotton ball. The bite is noticeable but nothing to worry over; I place the band-aid over it.

I pat his hand and murmur, "All done."

He doesn't take it away immediately. He's looking at me, I know it. So I look back, and as always, regret it. "Yes?"

"You're okay, right?" He's so blunt about it, but in no way harsh. I purse my lips and nod. "Okay," he says softly.

"Okay," I whisper back.

Too soon, he takes his hand from mine and gets up. I look out the window once more, using the sunshine to disguise my blush.

"I'll see you," he says from the door.

"Alright," I agree.

And that's that.

Though, I really wish it wasn't.

* * *

**The fluff in this chapter always kills me. Yu-yu and Maria's first _real _moment! This is my favorite chapter hands down. The next few don't have him as much so please be patient. I don't want to give too much away but the real plot of the story is going to begin sooner than you know—I think it's already started actually o.o**

**Till next time lovelies!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: yada yada yada I don't own anything but Maria**

* * *

**Run**

A stick crunches under my foot as I race pass yet another wall of bushes, darting to the right at the end. I don't know my way around—well who would? It's called a maze for a reason.

I must've stumbled and tripped dozens of times already. "Concentrate on the way you're going," I mumble, "not the obstacles along the way."

**Keep going**

An involuntary flinch rolls down my spine. Where is that voice coming from? No one but the wall of vines and branches around me.

I turn and turn and turn, falling in the process. And then I see something from the corner of my eye. A flash of something. I keep running.

Someone laughs and it booms like thunder. It's a ways behind me. How am I getting out of here?

**You have to keep going**

I've heard that voice before. Where? And as another cackle comes, I cover my ears. "Where! Where am I going?"

The flash appears again. However, forming a head and shoulders and arms, it stays as a figure.

**There's no time**

"Why?" I cry. "Why can't you tell me?"

The figure pauses and looks up.

**They're coming for you**

My mouth opens to ask but the figure grabs onto my wrist and pulls me along, grip just as warm as their golden outline.

The laughing follows, even louder than before. Bushes start to rustle and the ground shakes. "What's going on?" I scream. "Just tell me. Please just tell me!"

More and more we run dodging the winding, endless tangles of the maze. And then the figure stops, and I run past it—_through _it, to be more exact. It looks down at me like it's waiting for something so I ask what.

It points at the opening slope that ends the maze.

**Go and I will come after**

So I go, and the figure stays. Out of the maze and without laughter. I wait at a nearby tree to greet the figure when it comes. Slowly hovering above the grass, it wanders out.

Almost.

Jagged, crystal-white hands wrap around and crush the golden one as easily as glass. With little time to react, they grip me by the ankle and yank me down.

All I'm left with is a scream of white noise, guiding white hands to take me whole.

—

That gaseous orb in the sky shines rude rays against my eyelids. Opening them, a certain feline stares back; I smile at her.

For some reason everything hurts. I stretch my limbs after sitting up and even that pains me. "C'mon Annie," I call, "Let's go inside. I'm getting a little hungry."

We walk around the side of the house that swoops into the porch. I glance back at the sassy cat to tell her to speed up, but before I can say any remark, I slam into the wall.

I grab my head, an ever-present throbbing in my skull, and groan, "Jeez, I got to look where I'm walking."

Annie agrees with a meow and I peek to find her, but only come eye to eye with someone else. Surprised in the moment (and slightly afraid from my nightmare), I yelp and throw a fist on instinct.

It connects with a jaw. "What was _that _for!"

I sit upright and watch him stagger back with his cheek in hand. Two more persons appear and observe the scene.

"You shouldn't have scared me!" I warn with a finger.

Yusei asks what's going on but we both ignore it, both of us still in shock.

"Well you shouldn't have punched me!" Crow shouts after a few more groans.

The sound of chuckling comes from Yusei's side and Crow's head snaps away from me: "Shut it, Jack!"

Crow calms down enough to let Yusei examine his face. "There might be a bruise later," he says. "Put ice on it."

I apologize a hundred times: "I didn't mean to. Really—"

He rubs the spot again, but this time giving me a grin and a thumbs up. "It's nothing. I've taken my fair share of blows and one punch isn't going to kill me."

I smile, "I'm glad." Skipping up the porch steps and opening the door, I call, "Come inside, I'm sure we have something to help stop the swelling."

_I punched him so I might as well try to make it better. _Headed to the kitchen, I greet Martha and rifle through the freezer.

She stops cutting the vegetables and watches me. "Need something?"

"Do we have any ice?"

"Ice?" her brow raises. "_Just _ice?"

I nod and she goes on. "Why?"

"I need it for a bruise."

Martha inspects me, eyes intent on finding an injury. "Did you get hurt?"

"Figured you be in here," states Crow from the doorway. "Got any ice?"

Jack and Yusei follow in and together the three seat themselves at the table. Martha turns around to give us all her hands-on-hips, frown-on-lips double combo.

"What's going on?"

Noticing the hand holding his face, she grabs Crow by the chin and looks over the bruise. "Did you get into another fight?"

Jack says nothing but snickers to himself, and gets a harsh glare from Crow.

"Uh," my hand raises slowly, "I might have done that."

"Ah," Martha breathes. She goes back to the cutting board. "That a girl."

I blush as Crow hollers about double standards and how he's the victim in this case of "brutal assault". Martha mockingly coos at him, saying she'll always have a special place in her heart him. Knowing he'll never win, Crow just sulks with a pout.

I settle on a bag of frozen peas and hand them to him. "So why did you guys come over?"

"I invited them for dinner," Martha cuts in.

"Yeah, we haven't had any of Martha's cooking in weeks. It's hard to get any work done without a good home cooked meal every once in a while."

"What kind of work are you doing?"

Martha's put drinks between us. All three of the guys like their coffee the same way—black.

Jack takes his turn to speak. "We're going to win it."

"Win what?"

"The World Racing Grand Prix," Yusei says, startling me a bit. "It's a dueling tournament."

I don't press on. I've realized I have very limited knowledge on the whole dueling subject. It'd be dumb to bring it up now and I don't feel comfortable enough to announce my inability with the game. _I've made a fool of myself in front of these guys twice already._

The remaining tea in my cup is gulped down. "I'm going outside Martha."

I don't know if she doesn't care or if she just doesn't say anything so I go and sit on the porch.

The kids are home, I see, and they run feverishly around the yard. I watch them as they play that game—the one where you pretend the ground is lava and you have to hop from object to object so you won't get burnt to a crisp.

And strange as it might sound, this is my favorite time of the day.

Maybe you've watched children play before or maybe you haven't, but you probably have. There's something in them that's simply breathtaking to watch, right? The way they run like little warriors on a make-believe battlefield and the way they laugh when they fall down. Even the grass stains on their clothes and liveliness on their faces makes me sigh.

"They're cute aren't they," says Crow beside me. I repress a gasp and just look toward him. "The little rascals."

He shouts to them and they respond yelling, "Nii-chan! Nii-chan!"

They pull on his arm to drag him into the yard and on reflex he grabs mine. Now we're sucked into the game, leaping over molting lava to save ourselves.

"Go that way, go that way!"

So I follow.

"You can't move so I'll come and save you!"

So I wait.

"No, that's the dragon's lair. Don't go in there!"

So I obey.

The setting sun peeks from behind the trees, demanding an end to our fun. We root for Crow—who's winning the game I guess—as he fends off the dragon to protect us all. Just as Martha calls us in for dinner, Crow stakes the dragon's heart with his sword and the resulting uproar is like nothing I've ever heard.

I think I'm the only one that doesn't tackle him to the ground and into a bear hug. But it does bring a smile to my face. I go up the steps instead and remind them of our awaiting supper. Once everyone's inside I shut the door and follow everyone to the table.

—

"I'm just saying you shouldn't have said that," I huff. I know I'm still a walking tomato but I still put up a fight. "It was so embarrassing, Martha!"

She hands me another dish to dry before saying, "What? I thought it was funny!"

"But it was embarrassing." I scour the plate with more power than before. "And you were the only one laughing!"

"Only until your face turned the color of a beet," she laughs. "And you've got to like one of 'em, I know you do." Her smile is too devious for my tastes. "I won't bug you on which one but I know you do!"

I put the last plate on the rack and mumble that I'm leaving, only to be replied with another hearty laugh.

In the backyard again, I look to the sky. It's a starless night filled with looming nimbuses huddled together. I sigh and place my head on my knees.

Then a meow brushes against the air. Out in the field, she sits staring into nowhere.

"Annie, girl," I call to her, "what are you doing?" I scoop her into my arms.

She pays me no attention and keeps staring, so my eyes follow. And I don't believe it at all.

The forest is back. Though shadowy and vague like it can disappear at any moment, I'm sure it's there. Something urges me to move closer.

But Annie hisses at a movement among the trees so I stop and squint harder.

Ghostly white with a head like flames, it stares back. A figure for sure, and possibly even a women's, she licks her fangs and grins.

She's not the golden figure and she's more than a hand.

An arm lifts and her hands opens.

Annie wriggles against my chest and I struggle to keep her in. So she scratches me and I mutter a few curses, watching the blood drip onto the ground.

The figure's hand drops and fades into the forest as it slowly vanishes.

"Maria!" Martha shouts. "Get inside, it's about to storm!"

And as I march up the porch steps to let Martha study my hand, my mind wraps around the white figure and why, of all things, did my cat need to chase after it.

* * *

**Finally decided that the big genres of this story are going to be Mystery and Supernatural. It's still Romance but you're gonna have to wait a while for it to really begin. Please be patient, that's all I can ask of you.**

**This has been another update so thanks a ton to all who just read and have already read. I'd love you so much if you left a review!**

**Till next time lovelies!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own my OC and the plot.**

* * *

I sit on the porch, thinking. But mostly waiting.

Annie's been gone for too long, and it feels odd not having a shadow. Should I tell someone about what I've seen?

They might look at me differently. Would they even believe me? I wouldn't even believe me.

And what about that mark? The one that appeared on my forehead—does it have something to do with that white figure and the forest?

Maybe I'm just delusional. This is probably just a way of coping. What comes after denial again?

I push my fingers against my eyelids.

What if we're in danger? What will happen?

I know what Mom would say. She'd sit me down, give me a little speech about how I'm riling myself up. Tell me to go to a happy place like an island or up on a hill. She'd say something about patience and tranquility.

I sigh. _No, _I finally decide, _I'll just wait._

I don't want this to turn out like everything else. A chance has been given to me to start anew. I have no choice but to take it, crazy or slightly-less-than-crazy, and push everything else aside.

Wait and see—my new mantra.

* * *

"You're late," she hisses from the steps.

"I know I know, but you have to let me explain—"

A wrinkled finger shoots up to shush me. "Five minutes is five minutes. You don't need to explain anything."

She sighs, "I can overlook your tardiness, seeing as it is your first day. But _only _for today."

She says no more and walks through the entrance. I follow behind, already regretting getting up this morning.

The building itself is large and mostly brick with the exception of the wooden roof. Tables scatter the hardwood floor with little salt and pepper shakers on each. The sunlight shimmers through a window to my left and onto a door near the register. Not too much but it still maintains an extravagant something that you have to stop and admire.

"You can sight see later," the woman says from behind the counter. An opening is cut through the wall; a rectangular window peering into the kitchen.

"Are you my boss?" I wonder if she can smell my fear. Not once has she looked at me without an annoyed glare on her face.

"No," she says while going through money in the cash register. My tense shoulders fall back with ease. "But that doesn't mean I _cannot _and _will not _fire you if you mess things up. Especially with Nayla."

She rounds the counter and throws something. "Here."

A ring with two silver keys land in my palm.

"One for here and one for the house."

I sway from my tiptoes to my heels a few times. "I'm a little confused. Why would I need a—"

"Scuttle along." She shoves me toward the door with surprising vigor. "I have things to set up and you have work to get to."

She slips a piece of paper between my fingers and proceeds to slam the door in my face.

"You have got to be kidding me," I grumble. Turning away from the door, I unfold the slip and read off the directions. "It's only a couple of blocks from here; I guess it won't be too much trouble."

"Where. Am. I."

I've never seen this street before, I've never been in this area before. No one's outside, there's no noise coming from the houses. All this leads back to the same question—where am I?

I pound my head against the nearest wall and sigh. "She didn't even tell me where to go; how am I supposed to know where this is; am I getting paid for this?"

Turn a corner. Count more numbers. Read more street names. At last, I'm a few houses away.

"No," I hiss at the heavens. "This can't be it. What did I do to deserve this?"

At the end of the street, in a tree encrusted semicircle, lies a one story brick house. I'm going to overlook all the suspicious things like the vine infested fence and flickering lanterns and the squeaking gate just to save myself some sanity and walk—maybe more of brisk jog—to the front door.

My eyes wander from side to side as I tap lightly against the door. No one answers so I knock again, louder this time. And again. And again. "Please just come answer the door," I whisper harshly. "I don't like being out here!"

And, of course, the door swings open. So, of course, I lose it. "Nope. I'm going home. I quit, I don't want the job anymore."

But, of course, making a scene does nothing to keep me from going inside.

I tiptoe inside and close the door. I mark every noticeable feature as I creep around—an unlit fireplace, a dining room table, a window overlooking the backyard, and skyscrapers of books lining two of the four walls.

"This is wrong; this is someone's house," I sigh. "I can just tell the lady they weren't home."

A sharp jab throws me on the floor.

"Who are you?" the lady demands. "What do you want?"

No taller than five feet and yet the amount of sheer force she knocked me down with is something other worldly. Unlike the woman back at the café, her vibe is brute-like and her stare even more so.

"One more time—who are you?" Her cane is pointed to the middle of my stomach and she makes a quick jab but I scoot farther to a wall before she can.

I raise a nonexistent white flag, "The lady in the dress at the café." For some reason I'm breathing uncontrollably. "She told me to come here."

She doesn't let up much though her frown puckers with thought. "Zora?"

"I think that's what Martha said her name was."

The hard expression vanishes from her face and a subtle smile replaces it. "I see it now."

In even hastier events, she pulls me up to usher me to a chair by the fireplace and goes off somewhere in the house.

"She attacked me. With her cane," I say disbelievingly. And she would've beat the crap out of me too.

That's the type of stuff you see in movies. Am I in a movie?

"It should be ready in a few minutes," she flies from the hall.

I gasp, "What will?" Maybe she think she's surprised me and she smiles out an apology. But really I was just thinking of how she might have a dungeon or an oven big enough to fit a teenager in down in the basement.

Movie stuff.

"The food! It'd be wrong to have a guest over and not show them the proper hospitality, wouldn't it?"

She's off again but back even sooner with a pitcher of water and some glasses. As she pours, she asks, "What did you say your name was?"

"Maria. It's Maria."

"A pretty name for such a pretty girl." She laughs at my expression and keeps talking. "I'm Nayla, and I apologize for earlier. You're not hurt are you?"

I poke the spot where her cane landed. I want to shriek from how sharp the pain is, but instead I convince myself, "Nothing I can't manage."

I look around more, then say: "Not to be straightforward or anything but what is it exactly that you'll have me doing? Is it cleaning? Cooking?"

She huffs. "There isn't a particular job for you _to _do. Zora's too stubborn—on top of being blind as a bat—to understand that I'm fine on my own."

I really don't mean to say this but it comes out like a reflex, "No one's fine on their own. You'll always need someone, somewhere, someday."

She blinks, zero amount of expression on her face.

My hands shoot out in front of me (_why didn't I do this when she was pummeling me with a stick?_) "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that!"

"You seem too wise for a child your age," she laughs. Not the answer I thought she'd say but I'll take it. "We'll make fine friends, you and me."

And it's quiet for some time. I'm unsure of how I should get the conversation up and running again. At least the thoughts come easy here in this tall cushioned chair.

"What did you see?" I ponder after a while. "You looked at me and said you saw 'it'?"

Her smile keeps going but it's her eyes that turn forlorn. "If your hair was shorter and your skin was darker, you'd look just like her."

The answer's obvious. I don't know why I ask: "Who?"

"I'm sorry she's gone. It must be—"

"How did you know?" I don't mean to come off as defensive as I am, but there's something about people knowing things you don't tell them that's a major pain in the ass.

She scoffs, "Ha! When you've been alive as long as I have you know everyone. Everyone who's ever taken a step on this street, everyone who's breathed so much as a hello to pruney old Mr. Hikaru up the street, and maybe even some I've met in past lives."

"You don't want to talk about her, I can see that," she says after another silent interval.

I stand. "Is it alright if I go home?"

She nods and I try not to feel bad. "I won't have anything for you to do until a couple days from now, but feel free to drop by any time."

I thank her for her hospitality and bid goodbye, saying how soon I'll see her. In all honesty, though, I don't know if I want to come back.

"Before you go," she calls from her seat. "Take this piece of advice with you: Death is a secret to no one."

Even after I shut the door I can hear her voice trail off, "Remember that."

* * *

**Just in case: Nayla's pronounced nye-luh.**

**Arigato for reading. I hope you'll all stay tuned for more. Please leave a review or favorite or follow—they mean so much to me.**

**Till next time lovelies!**


	10. Chapter 10 Part 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything but Maria.**

* * *

They're upstairs in the den, the little inwards level that has the TV and the better couch. Rua turns on some cartoons he likes a lot, but she repeatedly tells him to turn them down or to quit laughing so loud.

If someone's asleep, you should at least have the decency to keep quiet.

Maria has bags around her eyes, that's what Ruka first noticed when she walked through the door. They aren't downright noticeable and, in Ruka's opinion, makes Aki's new friend more intriguing to look at.

She's unusually pretty for one thing. Not model pretty like Misty, or sophisticated pretty like Mikage. No, it's the kind of pretty that you don't see too often because it's like some rare type of gene miraculously fell into place and grew something you needed to see more of. You just have to find the right moments to see it.

Though, that isn't the point of why Ruka can't stop glancing at her, not at all.

Ruka spots the claw mark on her hand, too, and wonders where her feline friend went. It followed her closely on that day in the park; it raced to her side when she hit the ground and lied unconscious in the yellowy-green grass. Maybe the cat is just at home with Martha.

Everyone was worried that day though—it was hard not to be. Ruka and her brother didn't even know Maria yet and, when they saw Akiza dart toward the fainted girl, it scared the living daylights out of them both.

She wants to forget the troublesome image, nonetheless. This isn't part of the point either.

Ruka's been getting those feelings again, that's the point. She didn't want to take her deck with her anywhere—not school (she uses a substitute one), not over at Dexter's, not even here with the guys. Just looking at the deck would her feel anxious. She tries not to think about it laying in one of her desk drawers at home.

The feelings lessened a while back, and Ruka thought nothing was going to happen. She reassured herself daily—things are getting better. The guys are entering the WRPG, her grades at the academy are great, and everyone's happy.

She thought all this and more for a good while, until today.

The knocking in her chest arrived just as Maria came through the door. The spirits were alive with noise in her head when Maria shook her hand. And even now, Ruka's still seeing swirls of golden black and eerie white.

—

I wake with a start. I rub my eyes into the crevice of my elbow without trying to make it too obvious. It's rude to nap when company is around.

My vision peers over the slump of my arm and onto everything before me. Has anyone noticed?

The twins have. I think they're the only ones up here, actually. I raise a finger to my lips, in front of a light smile, and silently plead for them to keep quiet about this. Rua, who's too entranced by the TV, sees nothing. Ruka sees, but nods sharply before looking at her hands.

Reminds me of someone.

My hand rubs against my cheek and I sigh when I feel the rugged scar of the scratch Annie left me with before she left. I sit and peer through the bars to look over everyone downstairs. Crow makes a sandwich over in the kitchen—I think he's always hungry. Jack's nowhere to be seen; I would guess he's either in his room or at that café he likes so much.

_Where are you now, Annie?_

"Maria," says Akiza. "Can you come here?"

Not really wanting to walk down the stairs, I do it anyway. She asks for help with her English homework—translating sentences.

"I graduated high school just so I didn't have to do this stuff anymore, I hope you know," I comment before plopping into a chair.

She points a finger and warns, "I hope you know two can play the pouting game. Help me please?" Her puppy dog pout is sub-par but I've seen worse.

Simple mistakes here and there, some grammar that needs to be corrected. I don't need to help too much. It's a good thing too; I get the feeling I wouldn't have been able to do much more than what we finish.

I can only nod when she thanks me for the help.

"Watcha ladies up to?" Crow asks, sitting down with sandwich in hand. He cringes at the homework in Akiza's hands.

What's wrong with me? First I fell asleep upstairs, now I can't seem to focus.

Without realizing it, my eyes settle on Yusei's back. It's odd to see him without his jacket on, so peculiar I guess I have to stare at him.

Maybe it's good to be so out of it. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to spot _her _pass by. I gasp, causing Crow and Akiza to turn. As soon as the door starts to open I get to sliding under the table.

"Maria?" Akiza questions in concern.

I shake my head at them. "I'm not here!" I whisper.

"Oh!" she coos. "It's so nice to see you again, Yusei!"

I watch the scene play out from under the table.

Yusei stands and wipes a hand across his forehead. "It's good to see you too, Zora."

Crow turns in his chair to say: "I thought we already turned in the rent for this month." I think he looks to Yusei when he says, "We did didn't we?"

"That's not why I came—"

"Your soap operas must be on commercial break then, huh?" Crow snickers when she growls at him.

"I don't know why I waste my time," she mutters.

"Is there something we can do for you?" questions Yusei.

"Oh, there's nothing _you _can do for me!" she answers with a gooey voice.

Zora stops talking abruptly. No one says anything, but I think they're watching her. I do the same, just from under the table. The last thing I need is for her to find me here.

Her boots _clunk _against the floor with heavy steps, and she stops. She knows.

No, she keeps moving, this time over to the stairs that lead into the den. The pent up uneasiness comes out in one big breath, though it's short-lived. Akiza wiggles her leg and ends up stepping on my head. Her heels are pointy and hurt so bad my squeal pushes my head into the underside of the table.

"I'm sorry," Akiza whispers. "I didn't mean to!"

Even with my hand throbbing as terribly as it does, I crawl out from under the table. And don't get too far. Zora looms over me.

"Going somewhere?" Her tone is mockingly sweet. "Work perhaps?"

"Uh," I sputter. "Yes."

"You work for Zora?" chirps Crow. "I thought I had it bad!"

She turns to throw a threat that ends with the word 'scoundrel' at him and gets back to me. "You haven't come to work. At all. Why is that?"

To answer truthfully or make up some inane excuse, that is the question. I chose neither and don't answer at all. She came to chide me and whether or not I have a reason I know it will happen.

"As much as Martha tried to sugarcoat you, I just knew you had to be a troublemaker. She already sent me two—" She glares Crow down. I guess the other lucky one's Jack. "I was sure she'd send me another some day."

"Martha thinks I have spunk."

I don't say this to be funny, I don't mean to say it at all. _Damn you, mouth! _But because Crow chuckles and almost chokes on a bite of his sandwich, Zora's furious.

"I don't know who you think you are—" Somehow she's at the door. "But when you're ready to act like the responsible young lady I've heard you are, that's when—_and only when!_—you can come back!"

She stomps out with enough rage to scare off a bull.

"Well, that sure was," Crow starts, "something."

Akiza slowly says, "Did she just fire you?"

I don't think she did, she never made it clear. I know that she said she could, but I hope Nayla won't let her. Then again, I don't know if she liked me the day we met and I wouldn't know now seeing as I haven't visited her since.

I was hoping she wouldn't say anything to Zora. She probably didn't but I think Zora's part snake, part hawk, and part bulldog—she hisses a lot, seems to see everything, and has too good of a nose.

A snawkdog. Congratulations Zora, you're a snawkdog.

I decide that it's too troublesome to stay and chat more. There's too much attention on me.

I have to pass Yusei to get out the door and I don't look at him. He might be better at reading people than Mom was.

Someone calls my name, it might be Akiza or a twin. Yet I want to leave more than explain why I'm leaving so I say, "I'm fine," and leave it at that.

* * *

I blame school. School must be the reason I'm so sensitive.

"_You're such a good student, Maria. You'll be up to remarkable things someday."_

"_You keep those grades as good as they are, Maria, and I tell ya'—_I tell ya'!—_you're gonna do great out there!"_

And an all time favorite: _"You're doing so well, Maria, but when are you going to learn how to make some friends?!"_

No, when are you going to learn, Mr. Nagi, that teaching me advanced precalc has absolutely no correspondence with a social life I might or might not have?

The bottom line is, I guess, that I should go to work tomorrow.

I'll be on time and Nayla will be surprised and I'll clean and cook and do whatever it is she wants me to do as long as she doesn't start talking about Mom again because then I might not come back again.

That would only complete the circle of paranoia and lead me back to where I am now: laying in a lake contemplating my life.

The water's not deep at all, maybe a couple inches taller than me. I can't swim well but I'm decent enough to float; all you need to do is relax. The lakes off the edge of this park I found a couple blocks from the guys' apartment. It's an open area, but I guess I'm the only one who has the guts to actually jump in. Or the only one here for that matter.

_Splash splash splash. _

I don't think those are my splashes.

_Splash inhale splash exhale._

No, definitely not me!

My eyes were closed, but now they're wide with alarm.

Orange, a bright radiating contrast to the dull hue of the bank and water.

"Don't worry, don't worry," she says in panic. "I got you. Well, I _hope _I do."

I don't know what to do. She's talking to a tree branch.

"What are you doing?"

She screams. I scream. And I really wish there would be ice cream involved but there isn't.

"I thought you were dead!" she hollers, shaking the branch.

"Well, obviously I'm not!" I yell back. "And, by the way, that's a _branch_!"

I float closer to her and grab her hand. She squeals and flails around a bit but at least she doesn't let go. We work together and kick ourselves to the spongy mud of the bank.

I wring out my hair and mush my toes deep into the mud while she lays on her back mumbling something about her glasses. As long as she's okay, I don't care what she's talking about.

"You're alive!" It comes out a bit melodramatic but she's obviously in high spirits. "I was walking past and I saw you and I thought 'Ohmygosh I think she's dead!' but you're not and, although it would've been a really great scoop, I'm really happy you're not dead—"

I tell her, "I think I got the gist." Do I know her? I don't think I'd forget someone with such vibrant taste in colors. If I can just remember her name…

"Maria, right?" She smiles and, though glasses-less, she can surely see the thought bouncing off my brain. Pointing to herself, she nervously introduces, "Carly."

Oh. The first day I was here. Her and Jack. I remember now. "It's nice to see you again."

Her eyes glimmer, but it's gone in a second. "Oh! I need my glasses!"

We spend ten minutes looking for them just to find them, and her shoes, seated next to mine. I keep them off (walking barefoot is a favorite pastime of mine) and walk away from the lake with her in tow.

"Um," she scratches her head. "So what do you want to do?"

We stop at the end of the grass. "Do what?"

She struggles to get the words out, but they come soon enough. "We could, you know, do something? Anything?"

I still don't understand but I say, "I'm not really up to do—" My stomach cuts me off.

Her glasses glint. Should I be suspicious of that look? "We can go get food."

It'll be easier to dry off while the suns still up. On the other hand, I could get food. There's an obvious winner.

"Cheeseburgers?"

She nods, "Cheeseburgers."

—

She pulls up beside Martha's cleanly cut lawn. "I've been meaning to ask, are you and Martha actually related? I mean, you sort of look like her. Well, if you close one eye and squint the other."

To think I was just about to get out of the car. "We are." Her gaping mouth spurs a laugh out of me. "Is it really that ridiculous?"

"Well… yeah! Everyone knows Martha as the caring, lively foster mother she is. So if you think about it, no one really knows much about her life before she became mother hen." She leans back in her seat. "And it's not like she'd spill the beans on herself."

I can spot Martha through the window overlooking the front yard. She's picking up the kids' toys and games, it looks.

"You can't blame her for wanting privacy," I reply.

"Of course not!" her hands wave frantically. "I'm just saying that would be a really big scoop to get in on." A cheeky grin and shimmering glasses equal someone who's up to no good. "But not as good as the one I got today!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, there's this gambling ring—" Her hand clamps over her mouth and a muffled "Crap," comes out.

A brow raises and my arms fold, smirk firmly planted on my lips. "You might as well tell me now. Something about a gambling ring, I think?"

She hesitates, but buckles easily. "The reason I was over by the lake wasn't just to save you. There's a hill going up from the lake with an abandoned warehouse on it—"

"And that's where the gambling ring is?"

She nods. "I was about to go scope it out when I saw you."

"Did you see anything at least?"

"No," she sighs. "I wasn't close enough. And, they only meet at night. Or so I've heard."

I take a good moment to look at her. A little frustration is visible on her face, but mostly, it's determination. "What are you going to do?"

She faces me again and leans in to say, "According to an anonymous tip, the next meetup is tomorrow at midnight."

"And you're going to go, aren't you?"

"That's the plan."

Martha waves at me from the window and I wave back.

"Count me in then."

"You're not invited! This happens to be a very serious matter—" I arch my brows again. "Fine, you can come. Be ready at eleven thirty tomorrow night."

I hop out of the passenger seat and shut the door. "Thanks for the ride."

* * *

**Getting a little dangerous there Maria. Watch yourself.**

**Thanks for reading :) Please leave a review, they're great motivation and I'd love to hear everyone's opinions.**

**Till next time lovelies!**


	11. Chapter 10 Part 2

With a quick flick of my hand, the sweater's zipper comes up with ease.

I'm ready.

It's eleven thirty and I'm ready. Carly should be parking at the end of the street about now. All that's left is to leave.

I frown. Am I forgetting something?

I snatch the flashlight from my nightstand.

The midnight air smells of dirt and success when I open the window.

Now is not the time for reminiscing, I need to focus. The "leaving the house and being as quiet as possible" part is always the hardest.

Squeezing out the window isn't so bad, but steadying my balance atop the roof is. There's a slope to it, so one misstep could cause me to fall off. I sit and slide down gingerly. Spotting the bush underneath, I dangle my legs over the edge and brace myself.

Ouch. Rough landing.

I pat my shoulder a few times; a small pang comes with it, but it's all good. I glance at the house one time before leaving the yard.

"Sleep tight, everyone."

—

Carly doesn't notice me right away so I knock on the passenger window. "H-hi!"

She unlocks the door and I slide into the seat. "Ready?"

"I should be asking you that! You're the one sneaking out!"

I never noticed how fidgety she was until now. More for us too have in common, then.

She huffs and puffs (certainly not enough to blow a house down) before starting the engine. The ride over to the lake is pretty much silent. Dogs bark off in the misty distance and, somehow, the city still sounds like the city even with no one around.

The buildings shimmer, moonlight reflecting off one to another. Some of it falls in the middle of streets, forming a spotlight for anyone who might happen down them.

It's funny how everything can attain a mounting sense of beauty when the sun falls.

If there is one thing I could find myself loving about the city, it would be this. Which is strange, knowing how much I dislike the uproar and the crowds and all the showiness that comes with the living here (well, not so much at Martha's but nonetheless).

It's a small positive out of vast negatives.

The cease of movement shakes me from my reveries. Glancing at the driver, I spot the confused upturn of her lips. When she sees me, she grins sheepishly. "I'm just making sure I've got everything."

"Oh, okay." The velvety ripples of the lake wave back and forth. "Take your time."

"I'm not nervous at all!" Her mouth tightens in a frown, and she quickly let's go of it, placing her head on the driver's wheel.

"Um," I begin. "Are you alright?"

Whether we go or not is up to her. It's nice to just be out of Martha's house. It's nice not being worried about. It's nice to be like the midnight breeze itself—free.

It feels like years have passed when I finally hear her suck in as much oxygen as possible, exhale, and say, "I. Am. Ready."

We go down the leafy path of the park that ends at the lake's bank. The walk around and up the hill is brimming with anticipation.

People line up at the door of the warehouse now. From those in rags to those dripping in gold, chubby cheeked to low, hanging faces; it seems like everyone in town showed up.

Now that I think about it…

"Do we have a plan?"

She doesn't say anything, and she doesn't have to.

"Hmm."

I slide down the hill a bit and begin walking to the back of the building.

"Oh! Good idea," Carly says once she understands. "No good reporter just walks in to get her scoop."

I grin. Her enthusiasm is too contagious for me not to, even if it is a small one.

"There's probably a window somewhere, one big enough for us to get through—there!"

The glass is already shattered into millions of pieces at our feet and we make it over the ledge without much trouble.

We decide that it would be best to sort out the rest of the plan amidst the dark.

Just for curiosity's sake, I run my fingers across the walls. Feels like tile—cool and slick.

"Carly," I call, "I think we're in a bathroom."

"I guess that explains the smell."

I nod, but realize she can't see me. "Where are you?"

The glow of the flashlight shines on her when she answers. Quickly, we exit the bathroom and roam the hallway outside. Trash clutters the way, things like potted plants and waste bins lay in disheveled heaps, forming a trail for us to follow.

"We just need to find a place to spy on them," chimes Carly, patting her camera. "Someplace we can get a few good shots without exposing ourselves."

"Our best bet would be to get to the highest level, then." I tilt my head up slightly, a frequent habit when thinking. "We'll figure out what to do once we're there."

Carly follows with an assured nod and no questions.

Silence is too much of a recurring topic between us, so I break it with the thought of a certain blond giant. "Is it okay if I ask you something?"

Carly jumps somewhat, but nods. "You and Jack are friends, right?"

Almost immediately does a blush run across her face. "U-um. Yes, I-I guess so."

"Did you ask him to come?" Her head shakes no. "He probably would've been helpful, though." _Much more help than I can offer._

Her blush fades with a downward glance. "He's…too busy for me."

I think back to my last conversation with the guys. It was about the World Racing Grand Prix. Jack's reaction surprised me most—the determination in his abrupt response was obvious.

Just as obvious as Carly's hurt feelings. I can understand both sides, I guess.

Carly tugs om my wrist. Startled, I look first to her then follow her gaze to the empty hall ahead.

Somewhere in the trash, a pregnant pause lies between us and becomes a dead silence after too much time.

It isn't until we hear movement coming from down the hall that she yanks me into the room nearest us. I shut the flashlight off and we back ourselves against the door.

Our uneven breaths disperse across the room. Outside the door, there are two voices:

"Did you see something?"

"I thought so but maybe not. Eyes must 'a been playing tricks on us."

"Hell, we better not have ghosts in here."

They stop right by the door and, suddenly, it comes to mind how easily we would be caught if they were to open it. Air catches in my throat and I cup my hands around my mouth.

"Come on! Man up!"

_Clack clack clack. _The footsteps continue past us.

"Hey, if you stayed up till four o'clock watching a marathon of 'When Ghosts Go Boo', you'd be jumping outta your pants just as much as I am."

"Yeah whatever. Just don't let the boss hear you. You know how he feels about that kinda talk."

When we hear the minions no more, I crack the door open, look out and exhale with a lowered head. I limit the use of the flashlight just for precaution, but we make it up to the highest level without anymore trouble.

The top floor has only one room with three lengthy windows. A wooden desk lay in a corner opposite the door and a few file cabinets line a wall but that's it.

I sit with knees to my chest, my head resting on them. I'm not interested in the gambling, and on top of that I'm worried. It was a close call back there.

Yes, I regret coming. I knew that, when I offered, I wouldn't be of too much help. In fact, the only help I've offered was getting us in, and I'm sure Carly could've done that by herself.

And she was the reason I came along. Somehow I knew she was doing this alone.

Maybe because it's something I'd do.

I just wanted to be sure she'd be okay and, so far, she seems fine. It's just another tally for the number times I've worried over nothing.

By the window Carly takes pictures, trying to get every possible angle in every possible light, frame, and effect you can think of. But then she stops.

"Look," she calls. "Something's going on."

Just as I walk to the window, an elderly man cowers to his knees. The other, donning an outlandish pompadour, has his head thrown back as his shoulders shake with a cackle.

I glance down at the window sill, then turn back to Carly. "They don't open."

"There's gotta be another way," she whispers harshly.

Rummaging around the room doesn't do us much good. It's too dark to make out the minor details and the pressure to stay quiet hangs over us like the darkness itself.

As I finish with my half, I turn and see Carly struggling with a file cabinet. I don't ask and go to help. Poking out from the side of it is a rusted knob. Soon enough we move the cabinet away from the wall, which reveals a small door. Words are on it but they're far from legible.

A couple jiggles of the knob and budges with our shoulders makes the door give, leading onto a metal platform. Walking farther from the office leaves us dangling over the worker's area, a bird's eye view just as we wanted.

"This is perfect," hums Carly. I grin as the clicking starts up again, but keep my focus on the scene below.

Seeing mystical beasts and unused face-downs begin to disappear signals that there's been a duel. The man hunched on the ground clasps his hands, pleading for something of the duelist opposite him. It only makes him laugh harder, the sound slapping hard against the factory walls. It sends shivers down my spine. The laughing man regains composure enough to step across the floor. With a shake of his head, he raises a leg and kicks the man down.

The clicking stops and, for the second time, I hold my breath.

Two goons, the ones that passed us up I think, appear at the old man's sides. Each one carries a baseball bat. Spats of "trash" and "scum" are what I can pick out from the livid crowd.

"We have to do something," I whisper. I've seen enough crime shows to know what a couple forceful smacks to the head can do. "We have to do something."

Panic hides behind Carly's thick frames. "But what? What could we do?"

A buzzing surges through my ear. _No, not now_.

Turning my head back to the office, I spot the faint glow against the window, the tiny body peering through the glass. Two uneven holes occupy the spaces where eyes would lay.

I stare, unable to hide my fascination and horror, at the nearly transparent being. It lifts its head as the holes within widen, takes one glance toward me, and vanishes in a poof of grey flames.

The disappearance gives me a rush of courage and I stumble back to the door. Or try to, at least, before hearing a yelp behind me. Carly's arms hang over the rail as her mouth drops.

Her camera plummets to the ground, almost thirty feet below.

The crowd is shushed by the sound, no one moving, or breathing for that matter.

A pompadour moves upward among them. The owner scowls when he sees us, never once removing his gaze even as he saunters over to the pieces. He observes them as he picks up the cracked lens, sighing.

"Now," he says, tilting his head up again, "wouldn't you get a better view of the show if you were down here instead?"

Carly comes to my side and whispers, "What do we do?"

Glancing to the old man seated on the floor and back to the other, I say quietly, "Don't hurt him."

"I don't think I heard you right." He cups a hand around his ear, "Care to repeat?"

I don't say anything, and he laughs: "Thought so."

Carly grabs my arm and I look at her in complete understanding. Together we run down the platform. When we reach the edge that goes to another door, someone shouts, "Get them, you idiots!" We pass through and quickly leave to sprint down the hall.

Coming to a fork, and seeing three bulky men at the end of one, we choose the other. They shake the floor as they follow us. We hit the stairs and land in another hall with a split, the men not far behind.

"We should split up," I gasp. I won't last too much longer, and I don't want drag her with me.

"What? No!" yells Carly.

I slow my pace and she stops in front of me. "You have a phone?" She nods. Spinning in the opposite direction, I run and shout over my shoulder, "Then call for help!"

I've pushed my lungs for too long and, before I know it, I'm falling over into a heap of trash. At least I've made it back to square one, I want to say. But a mocking chuckle catches me off guard.

There's two of them, one bigger than the other, meaning only one of their buddies went after Carly. _All I can do is hope she's alright._

I scoot away and the smaller one smiles. "The boss is gonna have real fun with you," he says through heavy breathes. "I can already tell."

It's stronger than it's ever been, the tingling sensation. I'm only noticing it now, but I think it's been growing ever since we started running.

This can't be good. The mark, fainting, the white figures—nothing good comes from these headaches.

Groggily, I stand. The larger and closer one huffs: "I'd stay down if I were you."

My head pounds and I have to force my words out. "I thought we were playing a game."

I ready myself to run, and so does he, but there's one thing that keeps us both.

The scream, a bloodcurdling grunt from his friend. Something sits over him, hidden by shadows. It growls and transforms the yells into a cross of human pain and an animal pouncing.

I fight the fear and the worry for the man down the hall and take this as my chance. I run to the door where I know the bathroom is and leap through the glassless window.

I want to go back. Make sure Carly is okay. Even the two men.

But there comes another scream and, instantly, I'm aware that the uninjured half of the twosome is now being attacked. I get off the ground and take a few steps before I fall and tumble down the hill.

Sprawled on the grass, I try to catch my breath. I might just be passing out.

Something glows behind the trees.

And I feel like such an like an idiot doing this, but I go to it. Back at the lake, I lower to my knees and do the only thing I can—cough.

"I see you've finally made it," comes a voice. It's thick and muffled, like listening to a radio station you haven't got a clear signal to.

I look up. Over it hangs the glow I saw, now condensed into a small, golden orb.

"What is happening?" I whisper, shaking my head at myself. "It's been a long time coming, but I think I've finally lost it."

"Whatever it is that you've lost," starts the voice, "has lead you on a search, and here, you have found me."

Rubbing my fingers into my temples, I scold, "You don't have time for this, Maria! There are people in there who are getting hurt—"

"Men who would have hurt you in return."

"People nonetheless!"

I want to say the orb sighs, but I can't be very sure of much right now. Orbs of any kind shouldn't be on my list of priorities.

Birds scatter the sky and I lay back to watch them. They tweet so noisily that whatever it is the orb says next, I have to ask it for a repeat: "It is apparent to me that you are not in a state for discussion."

I nod.

"Perhaps, on the next time we meet, you will be in a more willing position to discuss the events that are soon to occur."

I nod again, slower this time. A bush rustles and footsteps follow, but they don't continue and seem to stop abruptly, along with the orb.

Mom says to me—reciting one of her many mantras as usual, _"Just focus on the sky, my little bumblebee. Focus on the sky and nothing else."_

For a small moment, I close my eyes. It can't be longer than the time it takes to blink.

When they reopen, the birds are gone. No voices speak to me. The sky has changed—still indigo and starless but beyond is orange.

I hate myself for thinking this but I've got to get up. _I won't stay long, _I think. _Just enough to spot Carly and then I'll leave._

Sector cars sit in the rocky parking lot, the sirens still blinking red and blue. A crowd has formed and I assume it's the same one that was inside, with it's fair mix of security officers and reporters added in.

I go no further than the edge, stopping behind the yellow tape. Scanning the crowd, I spot her (it's really hard to miss her, actually). And once I turn, it's made obvious that she's seen me too.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says while ducking under the tape. "I didn't know what to think when we split up!"

An officer follows her. The first thing I notice are his thick, black eyebrows. "I'm guessing this is her."

I can only look at the ground or spare a few glances at Carly. She looks relieved, among other things, and it makes my stomach a bit lighter.

"You called for help, though," I smile.

"If it wasn't for you," she replies. "I wouldn't have thought of it."

I almost shake my head to disagree, but Carly's turned back to the officer. "What's wrong, Ushio?"

Ambulances drive into the lot. Out come the medics and they run through the building doors.

"I thought this was just another gambling ring," he sighs.

The medics come back within minutes. Cameras of local TV stations film them wheeling the two cots onto the trucks.

I turn away to face Trudge just as he pulls a cigarette from his shirt pocket. He doesn't light it and instead closes his eyes.

"But seems they've found bodies."

* * *

**Pretty dramatic chapter. And so early on, I know! It's going to sizzle down a bit. I'm probably going to put in more comedic chapters. Beware though. They might be on the short side.**

**Thanks a whole lot for everything you're guys have done. Favoriting, following, reviewing—they mean a lot and I love getting them.**

**Til next time my lovelies!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Did anyone notice I forgot one on the last chapter?**

* * *

"—ia? Maria!"

I blink, realizing my name is being called, and look over my shoulder. Zora eyes me from the register.

"This is the fourth time I've seen you slacking off today!" she says. Most of the customers keep eating, I guess they're used to Zora's yelling, and a few watch. Knowing this, she lowers her tone, "Just get back to work," and flies through the kitchen doors to yell some more.

I finish sweeping under a table and go through the side door to dump the dustpan in the trash. Looping around, I step onto the deck.

Empty seats wait outside the door, but at one sits a dainty woman.

She hums to herself and looks out into the streets. Her expression lifts to a smile when I amble up to the table.

"What can I do ya' for," she says, faking a Western accent, "little lady?"

"I came to ask you the same thing," I chuckle.

After her face twists in thought, she says, "I'll have tea." I turn to go, but she says, "Two teas, actually," and I stop.

"Two teas?"

She nods. "Yes, two."

I head to the kitchen. Barely even through the door, there's a hollering noise and an arm raises with an object in hand. I duck just in time for it to splatter the wall.

"Bingo!"

"I think we got her!"

A pair of chef hats pop up from behind a counter.

"Um," I stumble, "What was that?"

"Oh." They stand, one of which crossing his arms. "It's just Blue Shirt Girl."

_Blue Shirt Girl?_ I shoot a look back at the wall and frown; they threw a muffin at me. _Blueberry? _A hand raises to my chin and I squint at it. _No, not blueberry. Banana nut, maybe?_

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?"

_Or is it pumpkin?_

"She did it!"

"I saw it happen. And muffin throwing," the woman states matter of fact-like, "is on a level of stupidity only you two can reach."

I'm grabbed on my shoulder and whipped around. "Sorry about that," she grins. "Don't take it personal. It wasn't meant for you."

"Oh," I nod, glancing again at the muffin. "I might've deserved it either way."

She frowns, but it fades into another grin. "So you're the mysterious Blue Shirt Girl Zora hired." She grabs my hand and shakes it (jeez, she's strong). "Chiyo."

The two guys, brothers as it turns out, take off their hats to introduce themselves. The one with light blue hair is Mako and the one with dark green hair is Asura.

"We thought we were never gonna meet you, Blue Shirt," states Mako.

"Yeah," Asura agrees. "First you didn't come to work, which pissed Zora off by the way."

They chuckle just mentioning it. "And then you ignore us—we were so offended!"

"Don't mind them. They're idiots," Chiyo says, strolling back to a stove. She flicks a switch that lights a fire. A perfectly tweezed eyebrow arches, "I'm guessing you came in for something?"

"Oh!" I jump. "Nayla wants tea."

"Boss-lady wants tea?"

"Two of them."

"One more than one?"

"Will you two bozos shuddup and make the damn tea for crying out loud?" Chiyo screams. I almost want to say her flames grow when she glares at the brothers.

Before I leave with the tray in my hands, I ask them what kind of muffin it was they were hoping to throw at Zora.

They stare for a long time and the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. Whispering in unison, smiles forming: "Nothing sticks it to the man like a helping of bran!"

I'm creeped out, but I'll admit to a soft giggle.

"Here you go," I say when I'm out on the deck again. "Two teas just as you asked."

I lay the tea set on the table and she pats my hand. "Join me."

* * *

"Hey."

The rag needs more water. I dip it in the bucket again, wring out the excess, and continue wiping off a table. There's something about cleaning that's calming.

"Hey."

I know everyone else hates it—or maybe that's just when you're forced to do it?

The citrus scents, the assortment of tools. I even love the phrase "elbow grease".

"Blue Shirt!"

"What?" I gasp. "What do you want?"

"Jeez," Mako frowns. He soon changes it to an apologetic grin. "You can stop cleaning, you know?"

I look at the table. "Am I doing it wrong?"

He gives an eye-squinting laugh. "No, it's—"

The kitchen door swings and out saunters Asura. "Quittin' time!" he cheers. "My favorite part of the day."

"Oh," I pick up the bucket, "I guess I'll pour this out then."

"You guys ready?" Chiyo asks as she walks out of the woman's bathroom. The tall brothers nod, now side by side, and Chiyo turns her head to me. "Did you want to come?"

None of them wear the white chef coats they were when we first met. Asura's got loafers on, Mako dons a spiked jean jacket, and Chiyo's lips are coated in black lipstick.

"There's going to be a sick DJ."

"And it's on a boat this time."

"No thanks," I decline softly. "But thanks anyway."

The brothers, already in a partying mood, dance out the door. Chiyo shrugs, "Maybe next time."

Yeah, maybe.

"By the way, there's a girl out here waiting for you," she says, halfway out the door. "Akiza, I think?"

After dumping the bucket and cleaning up the water I spilled from being in such a hurry, I pull on my jacket. Akiza paces up and down the sidewalk outside the café, the tails of her uniform billowing behind her. I walk down the steps but she doesn't spot me yet. She looks like she's saying something, probably to herself.

"Hey," I call.

Burgundy bangs swish toward me. "Hi!" Heat comes to her cheeks and she tries to laugh it off, "I didn't see you there."

I laugh too, not wanting to embarrass her more. "What's up?"

Akiza takes a deep breath, the blush disappears, and her composure is regained. _I need to learn that trick. _"Can we take a walk?"

—

"Let me get this straight," I exhale. We stopped walking a while ago, ending up by some fountain in the square. A vender strolls his cart full of hotdogs past us. "You're a psychic?"

Akiza crosses her arms nervously. "Mhm."

"And you, the twins and the guys," I swing my spoon around like I'm the fairy godmother casting a spell on Cinderella. "You're all…er, Dark Signers?"

"Just Signers," she sighs. "Thankfully _just _Signers."

I take the open spot next to her on the fountain edge.

Two and a half. That's how many months it's been. A measly ten weeks, eight of which I spent locked away in a grimey motel room with junk food and bad sitcoms.

I'm lost, Mom. When you talked about the city, I didn't think _this_—the things Akiza just told me and the things that happened at the factory—was what you meant by "hustle and bustle". Two and a half crappy months and I don't even know what normal is anymore.

All this confusion only makes me miss you more.

"You're not saying anything," Akiza chuckles lightly. It might've been a laugh but she doesn't look like she's seen anything funny.

I toss the cup of ice cream away; I've lost my appetite and I want to go to bed. "I believe you."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

_How can I not?_

"I thought maybe you wouldn't." She sighs and lifts her head in my direction. Gratitude, appreciation, thanks—just words with similar meanings. But I don't think any of them can quite explain the look on her face. "Most people don't remember it at all so I don't expect you to."

"But they believe it don't they?"

"Because of the media," she scoffs. "Everyone in New Domino listens to the media."

I shove my mouth into my jacket sleeves, trying to muffle the sounds.

"What?" Akiza asks worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"It's just," I start, failing to hide the giggles, "I guess you could say it's one big _domino _effect."

.

..

…

"I'm beginning to regret this friendship already."

* * *

**I'm going to see what I can do with this story. The last few chapters have been pretty serious which why I came up with this chapter. The few should be pretty light and non-serious like this one. **

**I'm also going to go back and edit all the chapters. There shouldn't be any major changes but feel free to reread them; they might be made to be a little more comedic so maybe you'll get a good laugh.**

**I want this story to be more than just weird creatures and main character conflict after conflict after conflict. I'm going to have fun with it. And I'm going to keep posting whether or not people like it.**

**Till next time lovelies!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Owning the Yu-Gi-Oh franchise would be a ton of responsibility :(**

***Post editing note: I realized that I made it seem like Maria didn't know what dueling was but that's not the case, which sparked my inspiration for this chapter. Please note that I don't intend the story to revolve around the dueling part of 5ds so I'm very sorry if that's not something you want***

* * *

The pages snap shut, making a low thudding noise between my hands. The book falls into my lap and I stare, half-wishing half-annoyed.

Why did I think it'd be quiet here? It wasn't quiet at Martha's. Even when I'm up in my room I can here the kids' shouting come through the thin floorboards or the roaring of the TV being turned up too loud.

So why did I think an apartment that's always filled with people (two of which who never stop bickering) would be a nice place to read a book?

I sigh and lean back into the couch.

"How's your book?" Ruka asks.

I suppress the tension in my shoulders, not quite prepared for a conversation after a reading session. "It's okay."

She looks forward. "Oh."

"It was a bit slow at first," I urge the conversation on. Her head lifts back to me. "But everything's picking up now."

Quickly, as her mouth opens to form another string of words, another beats her to it. "I can't believe it."

I'd been trying hard to ignore the dueling pair at the table before us. They were the reason my book and I needed to part ways, much to my dismay. Every now and then I'd catch myself peeking over the cover, picking up what I could from either of the two, Yusei or Rua.

"I almost thought," Rua mutters again, placing his cards on the table. "I thought I would win."

It's slight, like most of his expressions, but I watch as Yusei's focus wilts into a frown. "I'm sorry," he goes to pat Rua's head, "I'm sure you'll do better next time."

I feel like I'm intruding. Especially when Yusei's gold-marked face turns to us and his eyes fall on me. I take a deep breath to try to make the blush go away.

"If one of you needs me," he sighs, making a swift glance back to Rua, "I'll be downstairs."

When he's gone, Ruka stands on her feet and puts a hand on her brother's shoulder. "You just need more practice is all. Do you want me to help?"

He sniffles, "No. I think I'll just head over to Tenpei's. I promised him I'd be there after this."

* * *

"Woah."

That reaction is an understatement, of course. The twins' flat just puts me at a loss for words. But maybe there isn't any to explain why the floors are so glossy or why the view from the living room overlooks most of the city or why the television is bigger than Martha's house itself.

Well, maybe there is one word: money.

"You've been standing for a while," Ruka says, taking my attention away from the stone countertops in the kitchen. Her eyes widen with worry, "I'm not keeping you from anything am I?"

"No," I smile as she calms, then chuckle, "Your house is just really amazing."

She smiles in return and offers me a seat across from her. The couch is soft like cotton as my back leans against it. "Anyway," I remind myself, "You said you needed a favor?"

"Only if you don't mind," she speedily adds on.

I laugh, "Of course not."

Her expression is hesitant, like she's not sure if she should say what she wants. Whatever it is she called me here for must be really bothering her.

"Ruka," I call softly, driving a wedge between her thoughts and our meeting, "what is it?" Still she looks wary so I add, "I won't laugh, promise."

"He's been a bit upset the last few days," her meek voice states. She hugs her legs to her chest and says, "It usually doesn't last this long."

My brow furrows in confusion. "Who's he? Rua?" She nods. "Why? Did something happen between you two?"

Her green pigtails shake. "Not between us. You were there, though." She takes notice of my bewilderment and corrects herself. "When Rua dueled Yusei."

"Oh." For a second I understand but then it's lost as quickly as it appeared. "But it's understandable," I say. "Hasn't Yusei had more experience dueling?"

"Sometimes," she sighs, "Rua's hopes sky rocket off the charts."

_It happens to the best of us._

"But this isn't why you called me here," I state as the thoughts finally form. "You don't _just _want to talk, do you?"

She sits perfectly straight now, legs on the floor and hands in her lap. "I was wondering about something," she says timidly.

"Go on."

"Do you think you could duel Rua?"

Of all the things I know I can do, dueling isn't one of them.

"I would be happy to." Her smile brings my heart to pieces. "But I can't."

"Oh," her head tips down and I can almost hear the frown coming to her face, "You're probably busy. Sorry, I didn't really take that into—"

And I have to laugh. Throw my head back, close my eyes, and let it burst from my throat. "Me?" I gasp in between, "Busy?"

Obviously lost and wide-eyed with concern, she says, "I don't understand."

My grin's small and apologetic as I go to sit next to her. "I didn't mean I don't want to," I chuckle still, "I meant I don't know how."

—

"And you're sure you've never dueled before?" Ruka asks from behind her hand of cards. When I nod she says, "Because you're doing pretty well."

"Really?" I say after placing a face-down on the mat. "Well, maybe. I did think it was going to be harder than this."

"We can take a break if you want," she states as she watches my hand rub an eye. "Dueling isn't hard but it can take a lot out of you after a while."

"You got that right," I agree. "Especially after seven duels in a row."

I fall back on the floor and watch her go into the kitchen. _You've got to be kidding me, _I think. _Even laying on the rug is like sitting in a bed of silk. Why didn't I grow up like this?_

Ruka's head peeks from behind the fridge door, "Are you staying for dinner?"

"What?" I look at a plaque up on a wall, its digital numbers reading half past seven. Outside the patio door, the sun has already set and the white of the high-rising moon hangs in the sky. "Oh."

"The phone's right there," she points, "if you need to call home."

My head follows her finger to a metal square with numbered buttons and a screen on it. "That's a phone?" my voice tumbles out stupidly.

She questions, smiling lightly, "What did you think it was?"

I try to hide the humiliation under my wavy, brown mop of hair: "A television?"

"Why would there be two TVs?"

I will myself to make eye contact and, immediately, the laughter pours from both of us. Still giggling, I pick myself up from the floor and go to the wall where the phone is. "Okay," I say as I touch random buttons, "I don't really know what I'm doing so—"

There's a loud beeping noise and I shriek, slightly afraid I've somehow set off a bomb. "It's just the voicemail," comes Ruka's voice through the sound of clinking silverware.

Just as she finishes the message chimes: _"Hey sis! I was just calling to let you know I'm spending the night at Tenpei's._

My gaze shifts from the phone back to Ruka. There's a pause in her action as she sets the table. Three spots, three glasses, three plates, and three napkins. I can't see her face with her back turned to me but I don't really need to.

The disappointment lies in her pause. In her lowered head as she sighs. Even as she shuffles back into the kitchen with the dining utensils between her arms, leaving two sets back at the table, I can spot disappointment trailing along with her.

The message goes on: "_He's helping me strategize my deck before I get a rematch with Yusei. Don't eat all the ice cream while I'm gone, okay? Night!"_

The phone beeps again to end the message. My hand doesn't go back to the keypad right away. Not when a certain thought is drilling its way through my mind.

Walking to the dining table, I watch as the pigtailed-girl pulls some things from the fridge. And I hate to ask the question but I need to be sure. "Ruka," she turns when I call, "where are your parents?"

She sits a bowl of pasta on the table, "Uh. On a business trip, I think."

I look back at the phone. _Looks like I'm staying for more than just dinner._

* * *

We stand outside the Poppo Time clock. Today is the day.

"My first duel," I sigh. I grin toward Ruka, but seeing her apprehensive look causes me to ask, "Something the matter?"

Her eyes roam from the door to me. "I haven't been completely honest with you," she admits meekly.

I bend down to her eye level this time, smirking slightly, and ask, "Do you want to know a secret?" She looks unsure so I continue, "I already know."

With arched brows she says, "You know that—"

"That you want me to duel Rua and lose? Yes, I know."

"How?"

I stand and reach for the doorknob, shrugging, "Women's intuition?"

—

Even in his sleep, the winning smirk is still present on his cheeky face. I glance back and forth between the two siblings and note the similarities of their content expressions.

Sighing, I shut off the television. Then I turn to the table and try to organize the placemats and decks that were left in a mess from the previous duel.

"You put up a good fight," I hear from behind me; it's Rua muttering in his sleep. He turns over, smashing himself further into the couch and muffling his words: "But you can't beat me. I'm the best."

I giggle and continue putting cards together in a stack.

"You can just leave those there," Yusei says as he comes up the stairs and into the den area.

"Oh," I respond, avoiding his eyes by staring at the blankets in his hands. "Alright."

He unfolds a sheet and lays it across Ruka. I step out of his way as he does the same for Rua.

Not much is going on in the apartment. It's quiet and dark with a few lamps lit here and there; the smell of coffee lifts from downstairs.

"Were you planning on staying?" Yusei asks suddenly, still tucking Rua in. He pauses and turns his head to look at me over his shoulder.

_I didn't know that was an option, _I blush from the thought. "No," I mumble quickly, "I think I'll just go home."

He pauses like he's thinking it over, letting the answer tumble around in his head, but soon finishes the action and walks around the table. My name is mumbled and I turn to the side of the couch with Ruka on it.

"Yes?" I question softly.

She rubs an eye, "Thank you."

I shake my head, "It was no problem at all." I go to leave but then remember: "If you're ever alone again, just call Martha's. I'll come over, okay?"

Her head snuggles into the couch arm and she yawns, "Okay."

Yusei waits by the stairs and I pass him to head for the door. Maybe I should say goodbye? No, maybe not. Open the door, walk out and—

The door doesn't close. Instead, a certain raven-haired man comes out soon after and shuts it behind him, locking the door with a key.

"Uh," I say, startled slightly, "what are you doing?"

A brow raises barely and he tilts his head toward the moon. "It's late."

"I know the way." I point to the street I always take from Martha's. "It's that way."

"The streets aren't always safe at night," he explains. "I should walk you."

My lips purse in disagreement, but it's too late; he's already started walking. "Fine," I mutter.

The way from the apartment to Martha's house isn't very long, I know that. Yet it feels like forever to get there. I guess silence does that to time.

What can I look at to make this go quicker? The sky is cloudy so no stars. All the stores are closed so no window shopping. My gaze hits an unintentional subject.

The gold streaks in his hair. How the ends of his jacket ripple from the breeze. The worn, brown leather of his boots stepping on the concrete pavement. This boy, this _man _beside me is—

"Is something wrong?" he asks, cutting through my train of thought. He sounds concerned despite the lack of emotion in his face.

"Yes!" flies from my mouth. My head lowers, hopefully hiding the blush with my bangs.

"What is it?"

"Um," I frown, puzzled by the question, "what do you mean?"

I can't tell if he's more worried than before or if he's just equally as confused as I am. "You said something was wrong?"

"I…" _Excuse! I need an excuse! _"I'm… cold."

For a second it looks like he doesn't believe me but then I follow where his eyes have landed—on my bare arms. Thank goodness for tank tops.

The blue riding jacket is placed on my shoulders in one immediate movement, so quick I barely have time to register it happening. "Is that better?"

I know he's just trying to be kind but the softness of the smile only makes my cheeks redder. It takes a chunk of my courage just to say, "Much."

And the moment is over. I can still blush and internally squeal but he keeps moving like nothing has happened. In a way, I guess, nothing really has.

Now I feel like I should make conversation. As a friend (of a friend) and a decent human being, I shall try to engage in small talk. What do I say, though: "I like your jacket?" or "I hear you're really good at dueling?" or "I'm sure it takes a long time to get your hair like that?"

"Uh," I stutter, grabbing his attention, "The last time we met you told me you lived with Martha, right?" He nods. "Did you like it?"

_Why? _I cringe on the inside, _You couldn't have come up with anything better?_

Again, Yusei's oblivious to my discomfort. He gives a small hum of thought then says, "Martha's done a lot for not only me, but Crow and Jack too. We were lucky to have someone like her look after us."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

My head leans forward automatically, but when I hear him let out a chuckle, I peek to the side. Two (small) smiles in one night; I must be on a roll.

"Do you like it?" he asks abruptly. "Living with Martha?"

"She's been great and I'm very glad she let me stay," I sigh. "I don't think I'll ever be able to repay her."

The silence is revived shortly after. Although I'd like to ask him more, it dawns on me that we're coming up to Martha's front yard. Yusei stays in the grass as I step up onto the porch.

I thank him hurriedly and continue to walk to the door. "Maria," he calls after me.

Coming back out to the porch's edge puts me at a height advantage just above his head. The light from a nearby light shines on his steely eyes and, though I thought I finally choked it down, the red in my cheeks flourishes yet again. "Yes?"

He eyes my arms, looking faintly amused: "Can I have my jacket back?"

I laugh down the embarrassment, "Of course."

He shrugs it on along with his gloves. "I should get going."

"Probably," I utter with my gaze on a bush seated next to the porch beams.

"Goodnight then."

"Goodnight."

The presence of his stare lingers, but then I hear him turn, crunching through grass and padding down the sidewalk.

Before opening the front door, I push my palms against my cheeks in hopes of forcing the heat back into my body. My shoes slip off and fall on the floor by the door.

Up to my room it is, where I sit for hours still trying figure out a way to get this stupid blush off my face and a certain blue-eyed duelist off my mind.

* * *

**I know Yusei was in there for only a little snippet at the end but he's going to become so much more important in later chapters. Which is why I all I can give you now is Maria's budding crush/fangirling over his fine bootay ;)**

**It would mean the world if you guys dropped something in the review box and thanks so much for reading.**

**Till next time lovelies!**


End file.
